


House Greystone

by zenmaldita



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Art, Character Development, Courtship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Flashbacks, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Haurchefant's POV, Implied Sexual Content, Injury Recovery, Parental Love, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-09-28 15:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17185874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenmaldita/pseuds/zenmaldita
Summary: Haurchefant's POV.Haurchefant does his best to catch up and adapt to a world that has moved on without him.In Haurchefant's POV; will explore his thoughts, insecurities, and struggles.*Vague Fem WOL*Easy Reading: Fluffy, Romantic, Humor...could be a trap*Will attempt Character Arcs*Canon Divergence & SPOILERS from Patch 2.55 onwards





	1. What The Gods Saw Fit

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to keep the WOL as vague as necessary.

 

Do bastards go to heaven?

 

For all the bastards I knew, I hope they do. As for me, well...it’s been dark for quite some time.

I half expected to see a giant crystal as my soul returned to the aetherstream but I see nothing of that sort. Instead I float in a vast nothingness. I can still see myself, well, parts of me. The gaping hole in my abdomen was a constant reminder of how I passed. My curiosity lead me to poke it a couple of times and to my surprise - I don’t feel any pain. Mayhaps this is heaven. The absence of eternal pain convinces me so.

I hope she’s all right, my beloved Warrior of Light. Although she was unharmed when I closed my eyes, I can’t help but worry. If I had been a second too late, only Halone knows what I would do with myself - with this ring.

The tales surrounding this ring are quite long. But what else is there to do in this blank afterlife? What happens after death was rarely discussed in Ishgard. The 1000-year war had made us too weary to anticipate anything aside from eternal rest. Yet I still keep my mind. Am I to contemplate the life I lived? Mayhaps my own self-realization will help the gods decide what to do with me.

 

Very well...

 

After many moons of courting, I resolved to ask _the_ Warrior of Light for her hand. Long have I pondered - _truly pondered,_ if it was wise, if it was right. As a bastard, I feared for the life I would give her. The night after the successful defense of the Gates of Judgement, I sought out Ser Aymeric for advice.

He said:

_“She has more important things to do than to worry about your social status. Let me tell you something, from one bastard to another: The masses will say whatever they fancy. And what of it? Their words are air. Whatever they say will not erase facts, my friend. You brought the hero of Ishgard to our gates. The people live another day. I believe the both of you deserve some happiness for that.”_

Known as a shrewd politician, I expected Ser Aymeric to stop me immediately. As a fellow bastard, I suppose he understood my plight too well and offered his support. I remembered how his encouraging pat on the back made me cough out all my insecurities at the moment. The next thing I knew was I had called upon a humble traveling goldsmith.

 

I was ready.

 

With the ring safely tucked in my desk drawer, I waited for her return. Our victory at the Gates of Judgement was a cause for celebration throughout the realm. The Sultana of Ul’dah threw a feast to celebrate Ishgard’s budding relationship with the rest of the city-states. As our representative, Ser Aymeric vowed to keep an eye on my beloved for me. When he returned to Ishgard without her, my heart sank beyond the pit of my stomach.

“Calm down, commander.” I remembered him say. “She’s among friends; she’s in her own country for gods sake! She’s as safe as she can be.”

“Where did you see her last?”

“She was called upon by the Sultana. I’m certain her majesty merely wished to thank our hero in person. Now come, ill tidings of the Dravanian horde had lead me to leave the soiree early.”

I followed Ser Aymeric with the heaviest strides.

 

Alas, hours passed and there was no attack.

 

The skies were empty that night and I was no fool to keep waiting around. Without another moment to lose, I appointed my second in command and I swiftly rode for Ul’dah.

My heart raced against my chest - like a thundering drum that would soon burst at any given moment. I closed my eyes as my hands gripped my chocobo’s reins tight. I begged to all the gods who would listen to keep my beloved safe.

That’s when I heard the Enterprise. I opened my eyes quickly enough to catch a glimpse of the airship. Swiftly, it flew to the north - to Camp Dragonhead. I pulled the reins to a halt and immediately changed course.

 

The journey felt like mere seconds.

 

Two knights immediately ran towards me. One stabled my steed, and the other informed me of the Warrior of Light’s sudden arrival.

“They’re at the intercessory, my lord,” said Yaelle, my keeper of sums. “Meduil is attending to them as we speak.”

"Meduil?" 

The mention of the resident chirurgeon made my heart heel from its gallop. I gave Yaelle a brief nod and marched towards the chamber. Everything was either moving too fast or too slow. When the door to the intercessory opened as I reached for it, it took me a few moments to steady myself.

“Does the sight of a shriveling old crone frighten you so, Lord Haurchefant?” Meduil greeted.

“Forgive me, my lady. I’m a little shaken.”

“Not as much as she is. The boy won’t talk either.” Meduil pointed with her nose and then left.

I turned to our guests. Alphinaud kept his head down with his hood covering his head. The young elezen kept quiet - an anomaly to his naturally confident demeanor. My beloved covered him with a shawl that was no doubt from Meduil. Seeing as he did not protest, she dusted off the snow that gathered on top of his hood. I watched in silence, waited for any of them to relay to me what transpired until I saw the bruises that littered her body.

Clad in Ul’dahn silks that best showed off her chiseled limbs, the sight would have normally sent me to the moon. Only instead of passion, the entirety of my being filled with rage. I closed the intercessory door carefully and sought solace in the kitchen. It wouldn’t do us any good if I greet them with simmering anger within me.

 

Half a bell later I returned to the intercessory with mugs of hot chocolate. I wished we had food available but it was too late in the night. With two additional people in the camp, our cook rightfully deserved her slumber. When I opened the door, I saw my beloved toiling at the fireplace despite her condition. She greeted me with a weak smile before wobbling up to stand. Alphinaud on the other hand, remained motionless in defeat.

"Are you content to remain a broken blade, Master Alphinaud?” I said, startling him.  “Is there no flame hot enough to reforge you?"

I placed the mugs on the table and kept them company through the night with words of encouragement. Soon Alphinaud started monologuing. He reflected on his naivety and called out his vanity. As he continued to berate himself, he eventually recounted the tragic events. How foolhardy, the Ul’dahns were!

 

They accused _the_ Warrior of Light of the Sultana’s murder because she was the only one in the room with her majesty. The “authorities” under Alphinaud’s command turned against the poor boy and _conveniently_ found a vial of poison on my beloved’s person. Thus they were accused of conspiracy and declared enemies of the realm.

What folly! Even a half-wit knows that only an idiot duller than said half-wit would poison their victim in person and _then_ get caught a second later.

 

As the night grew deep, young Alphinaud soon fell asleep on a makeshift bed out of straw, extra linens from the infirmary, and one of my pelt coats that I hardly use. My beloved watched over him with such a forlorn expression. She gently fixed the stray locks that stuck on his face from cold sweat. The poor lad was probably having a nightmare. I know I would... 

 

“It’s easy to forget,” She said finally. “He’s only a child.”

I reached for her hand. “It’s also easy to forget that you’re only one person too, my love. The burdens you carry are too many.” I kissed the marks on her hands, the rope burn on her wrists, and the bruises on her forearms. “If only I had been there...”

She watched me quietly. T’was only when I found myself kissing her shoulders that I had the sense to stop everything I was doing.

“Are you free tonight, my lord?”

“P-Pardon?” My eyes darted to Alphinaud. He was sound asleep. _Good_. _Very Good._ “Y-You’re not in the right _condition_ , my love.” I smiled nervously.

 _Oh no_ , have some restraint you depraved fool! Presently, she is a fugitive suspected of murder of a world power, and you, my good ser, are her _only_ ally. Now is _clearly_ not the time to -

She imitated me; planting kisses on my knuckles to my fingertips, to the palm of my hand. I watched her lips like a fool.

“I don’t think I can sleep at all tonight.”

She was no virgin, thanks to me. However, the circumstances of our every encounter so far weren't in the light of tragedy such as this. I was careful; I did not want to suddenly burden her with a child in the midst of her work. With the anger I felt, and the need to comfort her in every way, tonight might prove difficult.

 

I was dying to hold her. 

 

“Oh love, you don’t know what you ask.” I sighed and then cupped her face. “It would be remiss of me; you’re vulnerable now more than ever.”

Like a reprimanded child she puffed her cheeks and furrowed her brow.

“I will not.” I repeated, which earned me a defiant groan.

Adorable. But heaven forbid I get caught up in passion and contribute more bastards to suffer in this realm. I have a ring in my drawer and--

 

_I have a ring in my drawer!_

 

“That’s it!” I thought out-loud. Her eyebrows raised in confusion and I swiftly kissed her temple. I took another glance at Alphinaud. Still asleep. _Fantastic_. 

“Wait here.” I said, and I was out the door.

 

The skies were clear and the stars shone boastingly that night – a great boon from the goddess of love, Menphina. It was three bells after midnight when we reached my most favorite spot at Providence Point.

While we were both dressed for the cold, we trudged slowly through the snow. Hailing from the desert, I knew full well that she was still not accustomed to the softness of powdery snow. I lead her by the hand and steadied her every stumble. Soon we passed beyond the stone pillars that marked Menphina’s altar and stood a few paces from the edge of the cliff.

There I pointed out to Ishgard in all her glory – my other hand firmly holding hers.

“Behold, my home: Ishgard!”

I took a quick glance at her and followed her gaze towards the city. The stars in the sky appeared to surround the city. They twinkled and outlined the fortress’ tall spires, proud arches, and flying buttresses. I heard her sigh as she took in the sights.

I withdrew my outstretched hand and took both of her hands in mine.

“She’s been fighting for a thousand years – for countless souls that trust in her strength. She did not fall tonight, nor will she fall tomorrow. She will never fall for she is my home.”

As I recited the words, my eyes remained on snow-covered ground. I cannot recall if I stuttered at that time – Father always said I was the most eloquent among his sons. Even so, my gut told me that I did. Finally I took the ring out of my sleeve and placed it in her palm.

"It is not mine intent to overwhelm you further - but I know naught else how to satisfy you without...you know... _that_."

She chuckled slightly and examined the golden band. "But you were so _eager_ , the day we met."

"Yes- well!" I coughed. "I am grateful that you joined me in my flirtatious banter that day. It is thanks to your kindhearted tolerance that our jests are..."

I trailed off. My fingers held the ring as well. It was a simple band with a single shining ruby embedded. The goldsmith took care to engrave my message in the inner band: _You are my Hope_. How beautiful it was!

“Ul’dah and Ishgard are not the same I know." I continued. "They are worlds apart with the climate, the culture, the food, and the people. But take heart! Y-you will always have a home here! Ishgard is my home a-and…I v-v-vow…” _Oh gods_. I really did stutter at that time! I closed my eyes to concentrate until I felt her temple against mine.

“I vow to serve…” She started, guiding me through the words.

“I vow to serve her, to protect her, and all her children from harm. Such is a knight’s calling.”

How she knew the Ishgardian pledge of knighthood, is a mystery. No more words immediately followed that moment – only nervous laughter as I clumsily tried to put one ring on her finger. It was such a simple task and yet I was a shaking mess. By the nth attempt, the ring was finally in place and tears streamed down her face despite how hard she tried to smile.

I took her in my arms and kissed the top of her head, down her temple, the bridge of her nose, her tear-stained cheeks, and finally a light peck on her lips.

I suppose I have sinned against the gods for _distracting_ their chosen one from her life of service to the realm. If I have sinned against the Twelve by loving her and they saw it fit to smite me so she may journey on, then so be it. For nothing in the entire world can replace the heavenly sight of her smile---

 

It was bright and my eyes struggled to see. When I tried to shield my eyes, I felt softness of fabric against my skin. My lips were pursed and pressed against the linen cover of a pillow.

 

I was in bed. _Somewhere_.

 

Weakly, I tried to prop myself up to sit, but a sudden maelstrom of a thousand needles stabbed every inch of my core. I fell down the bed with a loud grunt - my hand quick to clutch my bandaged abdomen.

_Gods, it stings!_


	2. The Love of a Father

As my hand applied pressure, I immediately _felt_ the memory of being struck down to the ground. My back ran cold as ice when I fell on the Vault’s cold stone floor. The sheer pressure punched the air out of my lungs.

I knew better than to claw at it, but my fingers curled anyways. In the midst of the pain there was itchiness. Yes, itchiness! Oh how the gods love to torture us so!

_Calm down…Calm down…Steady Breaths…_

Then a soundless gasp escaped me and my eyes stared at the ceiling above. My throat was dry and it hurt to swallow - let alone utter a word. Tears have formed at the corner of my eyes. I blinked a few times to make sure I won’t go back to the vast blankness at the second my eyes closed. At last the pain subsided.

Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I looked around to get my bearings. Imagine my relief when I recognized the place! I was in my bedroom at my family’s manor. Judging by the light from my window, it was probably a bell past noon. _Or_ _I could be_ _wrong._ The snow-covered region of Coerthas made it easy for anyone to mistake dusk to dawn. I thought it wise to leave the time of day to speculation. The sun is still out and that’s good enough for now.

My eyes journeyed on and found a few foreign pieces I’ve never seen before. Above my bed hung a curious object. It reminded me of a toy one would dangle on top of an infant’s crib. There hung six crystal shards - one for each element instead of a babe’s usual trinkets of happy clouds and smiling rainbows. On my right there hung a circular frame made of a single branch on my chamber door. It was decorated with strings, beads, and feathers. Lastly on my left, a golden container similar in shape to a gravy boat was emitting a sweet smelling smoke on my windowsill. Other than those, everything was as I left it.

 

Then, I heard a door creak open. I tried moving my head for a better look but instead of turning to the right where the door was, it stopped midway to stare at the ceiling. _Splendid!_

Now I wasn’t about to give up so easily! I tried raising my arms to signal to the person in the room that I needed assistance. It took over a dozen attempts but my feeble wiggling finally worked when the figure stepped closer, their visage coming to view.

He froze with a gasp as he met my eyes. His noble stance swayed as he steadied himself on his walking cane. I struggled to greet him and he started to cry. Father, he aged tremendously; his jet-black hair now streaked with white and gray, and the wrinkles in his face have deepened. _And what’s this?_ A Halonic rosary was tucked in his coat pocket.

“Father…” My voice was weak and coarse.

I reached for my throat to soothe the throb but my sobbing old man had already embraced me as he repeatedly cried thanks to our goddess Halone. 

“Oh my boy, my little boy! Welcome back! Welcome back, my little boy! Oh my son has returned! Oh, Praise the Fury! Praise the Fury!”

Father was never a religious man. Aye, as Count and Head of House Fortemps, he practiced our religion as society see fit - but to see him with his own rosary away from the public was very new to me. With his deep commanding voice, Father was wont to speak in short and precise words. To hear him repeat simple words as his voice broke and crack made my chest clench so tight it was hard to breathe. With enough effort I managed to place an arm over his back. He was shivering - I’ve never seen father in such a state.

 

Slowly, I attempted to sit upright once more. Nevermind the state I’m in; Father deserved some extent of respect as he is present in the room. Alas, it was too soon for me and I _yelped_ in pain.

“Easy now...” Father hushed, his damp face crumpled up in worry. “I’ll call for the chirurgeon.”

For an old man, he was quick to get up. I was lucky that I managed to grab his wrist and interrupt his beeline for the door.

“I’m fine,” I hissed. “What’s going on? Is everyone...is _she_ alright?”

My grip tightened at the mere mention of her. I jumped in danger’s way to keep her safe. Now I’m anxious to know if I succeeded. Had she died anyways, my heart would know for a fact that bastards like me go straight to all twelve hells.

Father’s deep blue eyes stared into mine – searching for my resolve. I stared back, waiting for an answer.

 “Worry not, the Warrior of Light remains the undefeated champion of our realm.” Father said as he gripped my hand in return. “However I will not tell you her exact location yet. I _know_ that you _will_ jump out of bed to find her, open your wound, bleed out on the street, and **_die_**. So listen to me when I say this young man, I will not have it!”

“Ah...I don’t…feel as young.” I chuckled weakly. “You don’t look as young...”

Forgoing noble appearances, Father exhaled through his nostrils with such strength you could very well explore the mysteries of his nose. The caverns of Father’s nostrils were a common sight growing up. Like an ill omen, it heralded the coming of our doom – the cane that usually landed on Emmanellain’s buttocks.

 

I do hope Father is not wont to beating cripples.

 

“Well...it’s been a while.” Father said as he sat on my bedside. He paused briefly and settled his cane against the wall. _Thank goodness!_ “Three years to be exact.”

“...Three?” I gulped - _ah that hurt_.

“Your older brother Artoirel is now head of our house, and your younger brother Emmanellain assumed your post at Camp Dragonhead. You _do_ remember them?”

“I remember...” The dutiful Artoirel was bound to carry the mantle of Count de Fortemps and it was a day I looked most forward to. However, the news of Emmanellain in Camp Dragonhead is somewhat concerning. The boy’s not short of good intentions but I daresay he lacked the courage to follow it through. I can only wonder how he’d get along with everyone. Best I’d ask...

 “What of my staff: my knights, my cook, little old Meduil? Are they-?”

“Ah, It’s quite like you to worry about them. Don’t fret, they remain at Camp Dragonhead with no want for employment elsewhere. The fact that they requested to be updated of your condition regularly is a testimony of your effective leadership. Emmanellain said he could only hope to be worthy.”

So it’s true then? The world just keeps on turning with or without you. For the first time in my life, I had no idea what to do. How do I even catch up? Am I to be bedridden while the war rages on?

“...The war, father, is it over?”

With the Warrior of Light in our city, I knew we were bound for victory - and yet I wasn't there to see it for myself.

Before he could answer, the door creaked open. Fortunately, I was awake enough to manage a head turn.

At the door stood a little girl I’ve never seen before. She was about 3 or 4 summers old and dressed in a lilac and pink fur dress. Her little pointy stubs for Elezen ears have yet to develop. Her blue eyes, common to House Fortemps, were bright against her sun-kissed skin. Her plump rosy cheeks looked so soft I wanted to pinch them as most would want at the sight of _adorable_ children. How delightful her laugh would sound!

“Grandpa...” she beckoned to father, “...can you please read me this book?”

_Grandpa?_

“After supper, little sun.” Father said as he wiped his tears. “Run along now. I’ll read to you later, I promise.”

The little girl puffed her cheeks and furrowed her brow. I expected her to throw a tantrum as Emmanellain usually did but the little angel let it go. “Alright-” She squeaked. When her little hands reached for the door handle, her eyes met mine.

“…Hello?” I said, startling her with my raspy voice.

 As if she saw a ghost, her eyes widened. I was about to address her again but she hastily closed the door. I turned to father whom was fortunately armed with an answer to my query.

“The new little lady of the house. She’s beautiful, no?” His voice welled with pride. “Aye, the war has ended - and so we welcome new additions to our homes with nary a worry. It only seemed like yesterday we were fighting dragons to no end, but now… _Now_ I’m a grandfather.”

“I see…”

I’ve missed so much. I swore to be ever enthusiastic for my brothers and everyone I held dear but here I am late to everything! “I must congratulate Artoirel when I see him.”

…

“...Of course.” Father reached for his cane after a brief pause. He must have a lot on his mind. I should do my best to get better and ease his worries. “Now then, you must be starving.”

“I don’t feel like anything at all, really.” It was my quick and honest reply and I felt like a right fool for saying it. “Forgive me. I don’t really feel like...myself.”

I rubbed my neck idly. Every word hurt but every word was necessary.

“There’s nothing to forgive. Mayhaps it’s best you rest. Take some time to take it all in, hmm?”

Once Father got up, we exchanged curt nods as if he never cried his eyes out minutes before. Soon he was out the door and I was alone with my thoughts.

 

 _Three years._  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Count Edmondt's break down in the game burned my heart with the strength of a thousand suns and doused it in seawater right after. It was beautiful.


	3. Rings of Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haurchefant and the WOL employ some old-world dating techniques.

A bell had passed since father left me alone in my chamber. During my time alone my stubborn self had figured out a comfortable sitting position. As for ideas what to do after, I had none.

Thanks to the better vantage point granted by the miracle of sitting, I was able to see the odd trinkets decorating my room a little better. Although I’ve never seen their like before, their presence comforted me.

Apart from the trinkets, I spotted my armor on its stand at a corner in my room. The poor thing had seen better days. I suppose father couldn’t bear looking at it and left it to rot with time - thus putting it in a corner where most people can’t see. Too bad it’s quite a vista from my bed! The gaping hole on the abdomen was so prominent I could see the wood grain of the stand.

And let’s not forget my shield! Right at the foot of the stand, my shield reclined in all it’s battered glory. Though instead of focusing on that sizable damage that punctured through it, my eyes wandered to the damaged corner where I procured some gold from the embellishments. 

I checked my hand if I still kept her “answer”. There it was: a silver band on my left forefinger. I rotated it around the digit and smiled to myself.

 

Courtship was serious business in Ishgard but the method I used to pursue the Warrior of Light was a curious old custom Meduil shared over supper at Camp Dragonhead:

“Listen, ‘ere, you blunderin’ sorry excuses for men!” I remember her say in her high pitched scraggly old voice. “Yer doin’ it all wrong! Ye don’t proposition a lady with yer big ole dangly bits, or yer coin, or yer good name - cos we all know ye got none of that!”

Oh how the mess hall roared in laughter.

“Ye ask her with a ring ye fashioned yerself! And if she fancies you, then ye get a ring she made herself too!”

“Is that why your ring’s so bloody brilliant, Meduil?” One of the knights shouted.

“Looks like an old wheel to me!”

“--Yeah, why do I have to _make_ one when I can _buy_ one?”

“This is why you’re all fools,” Jeered our cook, Medguistl. “It’s more romantic if you make it yourself!”

“You women and your bloody romance!” Said another knight. “I take it you can make one then?”

“Aye!” Yaelle, our lovely keeper of sums declared. “--Out of yer innards!”

The mess hall erupted with discourse. Some expressed the frivolity of it all, some said it was too bothersome, and some said they would rather not commit themselves. I for one thought it was a great idea. The current methods of courtship in Ishgard are all too final: Your father talks to this one’s father and done, you’re married. _I was having none of that._

 

Once supper was finished, I sought out Meduil for clarifications: One, why abandon such a lovely custom? Two, I was no goldsmith. Three, how do I know the deed would please my lady?

“Rings of old were made with whatever metal was available, my lord. As long as yer responsible of it’s making, how can anyone possibly question its value?” Meduil looked at her ring fondly. “Alas, the war demanded more steel - more precious metals. The high lords thought it best to be _economical_ . For some lords, having no such rings allowed them be... _discreet_.”

“Meduil...” I caught myself whisper.

“Forgive me. Your father _is_ an honorable man.” She then cleared her throat. “As for talentless lordlings like you, pray seek out a goldsmith and provide him the metal. _If_ she wishes answer your affections, then you might get a ring of your own, my lord.”

And so I did.

 

Thanks to Ser Aymeric’s encouragement, I followed through with Menduil’s instructions and provided a travelling goldsmith with the gold embellishment from my shield. Akin to my decision to propose to her on the night of Ul’dah’s betrayal, she thought it best to return my affections on a similarly battle-torn day:

When the heretics attacked the city proper, my troops and I had just arrived to see the slaughter. True, the heretics put many civilian dwellings to the torch but the way the temple knights have dispatched them was too…inhumane…in my opinion. The bodies littered the streets and I felt disgust at the sight of the righteous _enjoying_ the kill.

Oh imagine my relief when I saw the Warrior of Light arrive with Ser Estinien, Alphinaud and the leader of the heretics: Lady Iceheart…?

Time had stopped then. There we were, Ishgard ablaze and _the savior of the realm_ arrives with enemy. My beloved was ever full of surprises! I smiled at her, welcoming her home, despite the hellish state of said home. Her eyes twinkled and I was taken aback. _Have you ever had that feeling where you just knew?_ I believe with all my being that it was at that moment - that very moment - that she decided to answer.

 

“Nidhogg is no more!” said Lady Iceheart suddenly. “The Warrior of Light and the Azure Dragoon of Ishgard laid the great dreadwyrm low. Let us cease this fight and give a chance for peace!”

Dumbfounded murmurs enveloped the crowds. I couldn’t believe my ears!

Hesitant and afraid, both sides gradually ceased the fighting. While the heretics laid down their arms, the Ishgardians quietly clenched the hilt of their swords. After Lady Iceheart left with the heretics, we went about to put out the fires and tend to the wounded. The Warrior of Light and Ser Estinien on the other hand, had to make their reports. My love gave me a reassuring nod and then contacted me via our private linkpearl.

“Let’s meet at the Last Vigil as soon as you’re able.”

 

Oh, the sound of her voice was like an elixir to me! Revived with new strength, I addressed my knights with gusto. We made short work of the tasks at hand.

While the citizens were shaken at the news of the dragon’s demise, they were cooperative with the evacuation efforts. After we have transferred the vulnerable to the chapels, we started attending to the wounded. I was working on my 5th patient when one of my knights, Corentiaux, patted my shoulder.

“You’ll be late, commander.” He said in an unassuming tone.

The patient paid us no mind. He was a civilian, aye, but he was more than capable of spreading warped rumors if he could help it.

“Ah, of course. Thank you, Corentiaux.” I replied in the same tone. I slowly got up and he assumed my post with the patient. It took every strength I had to not suspiciously dash into the horizon.

 

When I arrived at the Last Vigil, she beckoned me from a gazebo. I daresay I skipped my way there!

“How are you, my lord?” She handed me a hot cup of tea.

I took the cup and scanned our surroundings. So far no lords and ladies are within gossiping range. Still, I sat at a friendly distance from her.

“I think we’re safe, my love.”

She shook her head.

Prior coming to Ishgard we had agreed to keep our relationship secret - among other things. While everyone in Camp Dragonhead knew, we didn’t want the noble populace of Ishgard to know that a suspect of regicide was being courted by one of their garrison commanders. However we can’t hide forever so we agreed to at least let my family know after things were set straight.

“Let’s not risk it. After that stunt with Lady Iceheart, people will look out for me more than ever. And since you brought me here, they might go after you too.”

“And Ser Estinien!” I took a sip. Tea wasn’t my usual drink of choice, but I wouldn’t turn down something the Warrior of Light herself brewed. Besides, she had been wary of drinks lately. How can I refuse this sign of improvement?

“Where in the world did he find the time to paint his _entire_ armor?”

“It was blood.”

I choked – with grace. Half of the cup had splattered all over the stone floor and there was a bit left. I took loud dainty sips as if nothing happened. I could hear her giggle beside me but she made no attempts to assist me incase anyone sees. I made no fuss at the slight absence of affection and focused at the task at hand: finish this cup so I can ask her for another – thus granting me a chance to look at her again. Yes, it was a perfect plan indeed!

 

And then I saw it: at the bottom of the cup was a silver ring.

 

“I found the old goldsmith you hired. He told me _quite_ the story.”

“Did he now?” I carefully finished the tea and let the ring fall on my gloved hand.

“It’s made from my old breast plate – the one I wore the day we met.”

I could feel my smile stretch from ear to ear. “I remember. You were so lovely.”

“I was drenched in eft blood!” She laughed. _Oh gods how I loved her laugh._ “I don’t know what possessed me to bring an eft carcass when all I needed to do was deliver Francel’s letter!”

“You won the love of Camp Dragonhead that day. We haven’t had fresh meat in weeks!”

“Oh? Did you fell in love with me because your stomach told you so?”

“You know what they say: the fastest way to a man’s heart...”

 

After an exchange of light hearted banter and clumsily-worded jests at each other, we sat there in silence for a while. I drowned in the warmth of her eyes and almost leaned in to kiss her if not for her better judgment. We were only inches apart when her hand stopped my fall midway.

“What say you, _Haurchefant_?” She smiled sheepishly as she expertly slid the ring on my finger. “Shall we pester Ser Aymeric with the legalities or…?”

My eyes narrowed. “And how did you know Ser Aymeric can process marital documents, pray tell?”

“I didn’t.” Her grin grew wider. “He offered, said a  _few_ more things, and _then_ I found your goldsmith!”

“By the Fury! Is nothing secret anymore?” I teared up as I burst out laughing. Never in my life had my throat ached out of pure joy! By the time I finished I was shy of exhausted.

 

We stayed at the gazebo until midnight. By sweet irony, the chaos earlier made the citizens wary to venture outside and we had the place to ourselves. I took that opportunity to place my arm around her as she leaned against my shoulder - our fingers intertwined. I cannot put into words how it felt at that moment. For a bastard like me to be able to share a tender moment with the most important person in the world, _out in the open_... 

 

I felt like I could do anything.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so he jumped in harm's way with a lvl 1 shield.
> 
> SMH.
> 
> House Fortemps, please get a better armorer.


	4. Several Methods of Affection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware: Implied/Mentioned sexual activity between two consenting adults.  
> Oh, and Stormblood Auri lore Spoilers.  
> My WOL is not an Aura but feel free to think she is if you like.

Right then! The sooner I recover to take the sword and shield again, the better.

I proceeded to massage my arms, hands, and fingers clumsily. My lack of refined motor skills wasn't a surprise but I would be lying if I said it wasn’t frustrating. To prevent myself from fuming, I remind myself to be thankful for all the things I _can_ do. I tried moving me legs next but they weren’t as cooperative. They were as heavy as as misbehaving chocobos! While my hips can move just fine, the rest of me needed more work.

Then, a knock graced my door. Thank the Fury! I can finally cease this entire monologue in my head!

 

“C-Come in.” Good gods, will my voice ever improve?

“Pardon the intrusion,” said an Auri man I’ve never seen before. “I am called Bataar, I have been your healer for two years now.”

“Well met Bataar, thank you...” I intended to thank him for his service but talking only grew more painful. Since I got the words of gratitude out, I settled into studying my visitor instead.

The scales on his body were white and so was his hair. His gaze on the floor made it difficult to be sure, but I think his eyes were red. It’s uncommon for an Auri to look down, at least, in my opinion. Every Auri from my memory stood tall and proud - but Bataar, appeared to be meek and at the height of any elezen.

 

“How are you feeling?--”

“Where are you from, Bataar?--”

Ten seconds in and we’re already talking over each other. _Oh, we are going to be the best of friends!_

“I see that you’re upright and talking, we can forego the pain relievers.” Bataar said.

 

“ **YES,** pain relievers. _Please!_ I just like to talk on and on-- but rest assured that my _everything_ is _in pain_.

Bataar smiled in relief, “I see. It seems your spirit is healing well. The charms and talismans have done good work.”

The Auri gave me a vial of orange liquid. It smelled like honey and didn’t seem like any poison that I was familiar with. I quickly drank the concoction and surprisingly took a liking to it. The texture of the liquid soothed my aching throat and left it slightly itchy at most.

I kept the vial in my hands. My fingers traced the groves of the carved glass. Its design reminded me of the foreign objects in the room. Charms and Talismans, he called them. Oh I do hope I wasn’t brought back to life by a forbidden magic at the behest of my grieving father!

“I’ve never seen anything like them before.” I motioned to the trinkets. “Did you make them?”                       

Instead of answering, Bataar held my forearm and checked for anomalies. He poked parts of my arm that made my fingers move on their own and checked for the general mobility of my joints. Good thing I was prepared!

“Not I, but the khagan.” He said finally. “You call her the Warrior of Light. In Azim Steppe, we call her the khagan - the absolute authority over all the tribes in the Steppe.”

“The Steppe?”

“ _Azim Steppe_ is a vast grass plain in Othard east of here - _across the sea_.” 

“Ah...She’s been busy.” was all I could say. _Othard, across the sea_ , he said. And here I thought Ul’dah was far! Years ago I would have given _anything_ , **_anything_ ** to travel the world with her. To witness her greatness in the flesh would have been bliss but my position as garrison commander held in me in place. Perhaps there is _some good_ that Emmanelain is in charge. Perhaps now I would be free to go.

“She won the title once. This year, the khagan is different.” Bataar continued as he inspected my legs next. “Despite that, I still respect her and I am here at her behest.”

“A wise decision. May I ask why?”

Bataar hummed, considering my question as he went about his work. He was either piecing together his answer, or considering telling me off. I’ve never held this much conversation with an Aura. They weren’t as talkative - at least the ones I encountered. There is one Auri man in the Forgotten Knight particular that took the title of Best Glower. Perhaps I should stop asking so many questions-

“We of the Oronir tribe hold great value to finding and protecting our Nhaama. That is, what your people would call a soulmate.” Bataar finally answered as he folded my legs to check for my knees’ structural integrity.

“The khagan’s fervent quest to wake you was _awe inspiring_. It reminded me of the time when my father swam the depths of the Ruby Sea in search for a rare delicacy that my Raen mother yearned for when she carried me in her belly. The khagan may not be Oronir by birth, but I believe she is in spirit. It lead me to wonder if my Nhamaa was somewhere beyond the Steppe as well.”

“So...You willingly left your home, _traveled across the world,_  not to attend to me but to search for your one true love? _I see_ …I see what you’re up to Bataar.”

Yes, leave it to me to make jests at people I just met.

“Well--It is my life’s goal a-afterall!” Bataar stammered his face began to flush.

“You’ll be just fine.” I assured him. “You've got a sincere heart, Bataar. Everybody loves sincerity.”

“Thank you…”

I hummed, signaling him to continue. However instead of continuing the _Tales of The Warrior or Light’s Quest to Wake Sleeping Beauty -_ that’s me by the way, Bataar pinched the back of my knee - sending my foot right on his face.

“AH! I--I’m sorry! I’m-- Are you alright?!”

“I'm fine.” Bataar waved his hand. “More importantly, the khagan shared many stories of your bravery. She recounted how graceful you move on the battlefield and I'm dying to see it for myself. Thus, my second life goal is to bring you back to her.”

“P-Pardon? Oh, now you’re making me blush!” I covered my face with both of my hands as a jest. But then, I suddenly found myself trying to hide such a wide smile it hurt my cheeks. My beloved was not wont to tell me words of affection - nay, that’s _my_ expertise! I’m the talker in the relationship. Her methods were direct actions that were mostly associated with the preservation of my well-being.

Most nights she would barge in my office and place supper with a loud thump on my desk. _‘You’ll die if you keep that up.’_ She would scold me, and I would do anything to appease her - even if the fare was roasted karakul for the _hundredth_ time of the month. _How is it that we never ran out of karakuls?_

 

Anyways—There are mornings when I would suddenly find my armor and shield already mended and polished, and my personal supply of potions completely replenished!

The first few times I was anxious. Has someone broken into my chambers as _we_ slept? Have the moogles that she talked so fondly about found their way to Camp Dragonhead? Am I now buried in debt for a million kupo nuts?

 

It was only when I woke up one night that I saw her “expressing” her love for me. Covered only with a linen sheet, the shape of her naked body was a pleasing silhouette against the firelight from the hearth. There, she busied herself with mending my haubergeon. My shield glistened right beside her, good as new.

Oh, how I wanted her – needed her.

Alas, my body was exhausted from our tumble and it amazed me how she still had the energy to go about fussing over my things. Had she exercised restraint during our lovemaking, maybe it was possible. Nay, my woman was _wild_.

 

And now I find out she had traveled the world to aid me? Oh gods…

 

“I miss her...” My hands traveled down to hug myself. Halone knows every second without her is torture for me. “ _ Why _ can’t she be here?”

Bataar didn’t answer and I was lost for words. Once he had just finished his inspection, he kneeled down to pull something from underneath my bed. He dusted it off and placed the item on my lap.

At first glance, it looked like a staff. The long object was neatly wrapped in iridescent cloth held together by a woven string adorned with beads. I opened it and found an ornate walking stick unlike anything of its kind in Ishgard or---well, anywhere at all!

The wood was twisted in a way that it wrapped around itself. A shimmering river of blue crystal ran through the length from handle to the base. The crystal glowed slightly. Bataar explained that it would glow in the dark if I tap it three times on the ground: a most useful feature should I decide to venture to the kitchen at night!

The handle was carved and settled in the palm of my hand with such precision. One end of the handle was rounded like a ball. The other end was hooked for my hand to lean on and I could tell it was made to help me reach things.  Oh, Father would  _ love _ such a beauty! He might even offer to trade his cane with mine.

“The khagan sought the wisdom of our elders in the creation of this walking stick.”

 

I am  **_never_ ** going to trade!

 

“Your first healer said you might never walk when you wake, but the khagan believed otherwise. She said that you were too lively and too stubborn to be lame.” Bataar chuckled as he rubbed the area of his face that tasted the rage of my reflexes. “She was right.”

I held the cane close to my heart and smiled quietly to myself. Bataar excused himself after we agreed that we should try standing and perhaps walking _ a bell after lunch the next day.  _ He was quite specific to deter me from attempting on my own.

Bataar’s hand was on the door handle when another knock came. I recognized the voices on the other side of the door and my heart skipped in delight.

“Ah, another remedy for the spirit.” Bataar said. “Shall I show them in, or would you like to rest?”

“I’ve been asleep for three years! By all means, let them in!”


	5. Passionate Gossiping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haurchefant is reunited with his Camp Dragonhead staff

Have I ever mentioned any disdain for roasted karakul? _I have?_ Forget that! I love roasted karakul! Why, the scent of the supple roasted meat with earthy tones of charcoal and herbs reminded me of home sweet home – of Camp Dragonhead and my beloved staff. 

"How is it, my lord?" my cook, Medguistl asked. "Not too chewy? Not too tender?"

"Ferfwech!" I said with a mouthful.

Medguistl did her best to politely hide her disgust and I gave her a sheepish grin to apologize for my ill table manners. The short hyuran woman shrugged in defeat as if she was dealing with a willful child. 

"Honestly, we've been worried for nothing!" said Yaelle, "You're the same as ever, my lord."

I swallowed carefully. Bataar's pain reliever focused on my wound but it also helped with the coarseness in my throat. A little.

I gave the two a quick "Forgive me, my ladies." before stuffing my face with another bite. I did not intend to lie to father but sometimes some dishes just _call_ _to_ _you_.

"Take care not to wolf it all down," old Meduil warned. "Ye may have surpassed my initial diagnosis, but choking to yer death is still a possibility."

For her old heart's sake I slowed down and chewed carefully. She nodded in approval and adjusted her woolen shawl. I had always wanted to give her a new one but the old crone refused everything I attempted to give her.

 

 _'This is all that's left of my boy,'_ she said finally.

 

I never knew.

 

From then on I gifted her a new set of sewing needles instead.

 

"By the way," I looked around, surrounded by women. "Where is Corentiaux?"

"He volunteered to stay behind, my lord." Yaelle replied. "He can't very well leave the fort to Lord Emmanellain  - not that I'm saying he's incompetent or anything-"

"Lies!" Meduil coughed.

She clutched the ends of her shawl with one hand and stabbed the air with an accusing finger with the other.

"That boy's lollygagging had placed Camp Dragonhead at the mercy of _adventurers!_ "

I cocked an eyebrow at old Med.

“Yer lady has a good head on her shoulders, aye. But in _Lord_ Emmanellain’s desperate attempt to keep yer spirit of hospitality intact, he welcomed all sorts into our halls! Vagrants, the lot of them I say!”

“Corentiaux and I strongly advised against it, my lord.” Yaelle chimed. “But whenever Lord Emmanellain mentioned your name and your ‘ _legacy_ _of selflessness’_ , we couldn’t help but let him do as he pleased–”

“And that poor boy he trails behind him!” old Meduil interjected. “Honoraint? That’s the lad’s name, aye? _Lord_ Emmanellain’s manservant?”

Yaelle nodded quietly to let the old crone continue.

“He’s ever so polite, so dutiful, and so well spoken! If only he took command instead, we wouldn’t be so hard-pressed.”

"Lord Emmanellain said my cooking was bland." Medguistl sighed woefully.

“How dare he?” I cried.

While a small matter, I can tell immediately that my dear cook took offence at Emmanellain’s comment. I raised my walking stick and waved it around in righteous fury as I uttered my battle cries with a mouthful of roast. Silly as it was, it coaxed out a chuckle from her and I knew my job was done.

"Oh, welcome back, my lord!" Medguistl wiped the tears at the corner of her eyes. "I think I can tolerate it a little longer as long as you swat them all away!”

“Let’s not be hasty, now. Our lord needs to recover!” Said Meduil. “But I _would_ enjoy watching a thorough scolding on that boy.”

“More importantly,” Yaelle said. “Won’t you return to Camp Dragonhead, my lord?” 

 

I set the cutlery down. Emmanellain had always been such a trifling child. Aye he needed to grow - but he would do the least harm in a comfortable, social environment instead of a military outpost. Politics perhaps. Or have I doomed all of Ishgard with the thought? Only Halone knows what possessed Father and Artoirel to even sanction his position.

“I’ll talk to Artoirel about it.” I said as I reached for a glass of water and drank my fill. “Bataar said I can try walking tomorrow. Mayhaps I can request a trip.”  
  
“Bataar…” cooed Meduil. “Handsome one, aint he? That scowl of his send shivers down me spine!”

Both Medguistl and Yaelle screamed gleefully at the old woman’s jest.

“But he’s so serious! Sometimes I can’t tell if he’s mad at me or not–” 

“Bataar’s very nice!” A high pitched voice shouted.

 

The four of us took a second to look at source. With the door ajar, Artoirel’s daughter had squeezed herself between the gaps of the double doors. With a sour look on her face, I assumed that she had been listening to us the entire time. _Or that she's very stuck._

 

“My lady!” Medguistl greeted with such energy. “My, look at how much you’ve grown! Come give Meddy a kiss.” 

“No!” the child shouted indignantly. “Not until you say Bataar is nice.”

I wonder if she will demand to restore Emmanellain’s honor too.

Yaelle raised both of her hands, “Alright, alright, my lady. We were merely jesting. Of course, Bataar is nice! Old Meduil here said that he was handsome too. Didn’t you, Meduil?”

The little girl examined my guests for signs of sincerity. Her eyes deliberately avoided me. No doubt she was a little _lady_ when she slightly raised her head and imitated a noble looking down on us peasants.

 

“Very good! No kisses. I do not _feel_ like it.”

“O-Of course, my lady.” Medguistl pouted. “We will never jest of him again–”

“My lady!” Another voice cried from the hallway. “I’ve been looking all over.” 

A Miqo’te woman dressed in foreign modest garments gently pulled the little girl away from the door. She gave us a low bow and hurried off. Thanks to my Elezen ears, I could slightly make out what she was saying outside my chamber.

 

_“It’s not polite to listen in on others, my lady.”_

 

I sighed in relief.

 

I am not wont to eavesdrop but I suddenly had the urge to know if the girl was berated or not.

Although it was not often, I did get my fair share of severe scolding and spanking as a child within this manor. I would hate it if my niece would go through the same things as I did – especially for the smallest matters.

 

“It seems our economy has improved.” I remarked. “Since when did father hire foreigners? And a Miqo’te no less!”

My lady visitors exchanged looks at each other. No doubt they deliberated among themselves about who will dare explain to me the current world affairs.

Miqo’tes have never settled in the Coerthan region due to the climate. The Seekers of the Sun were deterred from the lack of sunlight, and the Keepers of the Moon did not favor the foggy night. Once old Meduil sighed, I knew I was going to get answers.

“The foreign woman’s called A’oyagi. She’s from Doma, a kingdom in the Far East.”

 

The Far East again…

 

“Like Bataar?”

“They arrived together, aye.” Meduil nodded. “Both arrived a year later of yer slumber. Bataar pledged to wake you, and A’oyagi dedicated herself in raising the little lady from the moment she was born.”

“…How curious.” My heart raced, confused. “I knew my beloved was generous but why would she bring a nursemaid for Artoirel from halfway across the world?”

 

Meduil was silent for a while. I only grew more anxious.

 

“It is not mine place to say–”

 

“A’oyagi was an enslaved prostitute, my lord!” Yaelle blurted out. “The Warrior of Light brought her here so she might escape her masters. All of us swore not mention it out of respect. How horrible her life must have been…”

“I…I see.” I stammered. “I’ll do my best to make her feel welcome.”

 

The day passed in the company of my beloved staff. After they shared more stories and complaints of the current Camp Dragonhead, they did their best to recount the important events from the day I was incapacitated.

 

_Oh the things I have missed!_

 

Forget the part where Nidhogg was slain and Ishgard joined the Eorzean Alliance! That was predictable. Of course my love would emerge triumphant! 

The best part was when my beloved returned to Ishgard on the back of the father of dragons! _Oh, can you imagine it?_ What a sight she must have been! Such glory, such power, and such awesomeness she emitted! 

I am rightfully envious of Ser Aymeric for witnessing such splendor!

What a woman! Her strength knew no bounds and my longing for her only worsened every second. It was certainly difficult to contain myself as I entertained my guests. My intense longing mixed with joyful pride was getting too much we had to take a break from our passionate gossiping.

And then it was suppertime. As my beloved staff fussed over getting supper in my chambers, I gently touched my bandaged wound and smiled. She was able to do all these things because I was there for her. As much as I longed for her, I told myself to be patient – to be content. We were all playing our part for our world – and I’m grateful that our paths crossed.

“Shall we join you for supper, my lord?” Asked Yaelle, waking me from my thoughts.  
  
“Too late!” Medguistl laughed as she settled on her seat with a plate on her lap.

 

Supper was roast canard in buttery orange sauce and honey with a side of popotoes. There was Dzemael gratin but somehow I didn’t care for it. Medguistl marveled at the ingredients - how expensive it was to transport the oranges from the ports of Limsa Lominsa to the mountains of Coerthas. 

With Medguistl distracted, Yaelle and Meduil took turns in continuing the stories. As more and more tales were shared, I struggled to keep up. I daresay I mostly nodded and smiled without understanding a thing!

When it came to the Warrior of Light’s current whereabouts, I was full-ears but none of my staff were certain. They reassured me that Father kept regular correspondence with her but did not divulge sensitive information to persons of their ranks – especially my staff. Father acknowledged their loyalty to me, thus they were blacklisted from such intel.

 

**_Thal’s balls!_ **

 

It’s not like I’m going to immediately wobble to her and die! I have walking lessons with Bataar tomorrow. Perhaps the day after next would be ideal!

Jesting aside, my three visitors soon left me to rest after supper. With such an eventful day, I did my best to stay awake.

  

I was afraid.

 

What if this was all an illusion? What if I was still dead? What if I suddenly return to the void the moment I succumb to sleep?

Nay, I was not risking it! I laid quietly in the dark and amused myself with the twinkling crystals that hung on the canopy. Much like a babe, I stretched out my left hand to touch one until the silver ring caught my eye.

 

_Come to think of it, I’ve never read her message on the ring. Silly me…_

 

Carefully, I took the ring off my finger. I brought it near and smiled at the most important object in the world. I kissed it tenderly and reminisced the day she gave it to me.

_“It’s made from my breastplate – the one I wore the day we met.” She said._

How fitting! I gave her a ring made from my shield and she gave me a ring from the armor nearest to her heart. My smile grew so wide; I could not help it but quietly laugh to myself. I grabbed the nearest pillow and hugged it - kissed it - wished that it was her.

 

It was when I read the message that my smile turned into tears.

  

 

“You are my Home.”

 

 

 

 

Oh, love. Please come home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meanwhile, the WoL:  
> OMW!!! lemme just click through all this dialogue from NPCs I have no emotional attachment to


	6. Steps of Faith

It was a bell before noon when I stopped trying to go back to sleep. My paranoia kept me awake through the night. It wasn't until sunrise that I succumbed to slumber. Alas, my body remembered how I usually got up early in the morning and refused to let me sleep past 11.

“Pardon me, my lord.” An Auri man entered the room after a brief knock.

 _Who was this Auri man?_   He looks familiar but...

Seeing the apparent confusion in my face, he re-introduced himself.

“I am called Bataar…”

“Bataar, of course!” I clapped in groggily. “The bringer of pain relievers, walking lessons, and tales of my beloved’s heroics! Bataar, how can I forget?”

“Yes, good morning.” He handed me my orange elixir. "Trouble sleeping?"

I hummed an answer and took my medication. Bataar made no further comments and placed a breakfast tray on my bedside table before attending to the sweet-smelling device on my windowsill.

He called it an incense burner. The scents of the oils were supposed to heal and soothe. I asked Meduil of its authenticity and she was happy to confirm its effectiveness – and complain about the price. She also mentioned how some oils can amplify one’s carnal appetites. Most brothels would pay a premium for such oils. Fortunately, my lady and I don’t need help there.

“As agreed, we will try walking a bell after your meal.” Bataar said as he finished replenishing the oils. “Make no other attempts otherwise or I will confiscate your cane.”

My eyes darted for my walking stick and swiftly brought it to my bosom.

“No!”

Needless to say, breakfast was a swift affair – despite its peculiar, spicy flavor.

 

* * *

 

My legs feel like jelly.

 

Thanks to the elixir, standing up was easy. Walking was the true challenge! 

We started walking within my chamber and into the washroom. Since I insisted to be alone, I struggled with the simplest of tasks. Who knew bathing was so tricky when your legs don't work like you want them to? In the end, I settled to wipe myself clean instead so we can soon continue my exercises. After I got dressed with some assistance, I finally wobbled out of my room.

Now I know what old Meduil feels like. Stairs. They're nothing but the devilspawns hellbent to torture your knees one step at a time. It took me ages to get down a single flight but Bataar had cleverly hung one of my beloved's coats at the very bottom of the stairs.

I was like an injured mouse starving for cheese.

Nevermind the servants running about being busy - with their _functioning_ legs. They've got a job to do and I've got some walking to accomplish. No time being jealous now.

I _must_ have that coat.

It's do or die.

 

Finally I was out of the house!

 

The chill of the wind was nostalgic. It has literally been ages since my body knew sunlight and fresh air. I inhaled as much as I could. 

After letting me to have a moment, Bataar lead me to the courtyard where the planters were fashioned with a handle bar.  With one hand on the bar, and the other leaning on my cane, I struggled to make the smallest of steps.

Why? It was fine before!

My legs shook from my weight and shivered from the chilling wind. For three years I have been in a warm room and nowhere else. It was cold outside, aye, but if I had any ambition to return to my position, I must get used to the cold. Hiking through the snow is daily life in Camp Dragonhead.

I made about ten good steps before my legs decided that was all they were willing to do. I clenched my teeth and attempted another step but my legs froze. _It was frustrating._ With nothing else to blame but myself, I turned to accusing the food instead.

“What in the world was in my breakfast?” I groaned. 

“It woke you, did it not?” Bataar said, without a hint of remorse. “The heat of the dish will get your lifeblood flowing. However, it seems that your muscles have slept for too long.”

“Just one more!” I managed to lift my right foot. “The love of my life does not deserve a cripple.”

“Now, now. We've made excellent progress. Let us not push it or—Lord Haurchefant!”

I was flat on the ground. Like a right fool, I did not watch where I placed my foot and slipped on the frost-covered pavement. Thanks to my reflexes, my hands cushioned my fall and prevented a face-first fall. Unfortunately, hands are not made to support a man’s full weight. I whimpered in pain. By cruel irony, I was upset enough to make my legs paddle as if I was swimming on the ground. I screamed in my throat. How stupid I must’ve looked!

 

_Clap. Clap. Clap._

 

“You’re as lively ever, old friend.” 

I snorted, still facing the cobblestone. “Ser Aymeric, _a pleasure_. Please pretend that you have not witnessed my failure. Thank you.”

“As you wish.”

Bataar helped me get up on my feet as Ser Aymeric watched, honoring his vow of looking the other way. Beside him was his second in command, Miss Lucia. She waited for me expectantly as she hid something behind her. 

“Good afternoon, Lord Commander, Miss Lucia,” I greeted formally - indicating that I was now in the proper state of mind. “May I present my chirurgeon, Bataar…”

All three exchanged curt nods. Meanwhile, I examined myself in plain clothes. It felt… _abnormal_ to be in a conversation with Ser Aymeric and Miss Lucia without my armor on. Perhaps it's an exaggeration but I felt a little naked.

Ser Aymeric then motioned to Lucia to present me his gift: a chair with wheels on both sides. What a curious object! 

 

 _Now I can move with my useless jelly legs! – Ah, but can I fight in it?_  

 

“Skysteel Manufacturers and Garlond Ironworks worked tirelessly for the creation of this _Maneuvering Chair._ ” Aymeric proudly said. “It is the first of it’s kind, and you, my friend, have the honor of using it before all of Ishgard’s impaired–”

“I’m not impaired!”

“…My apologies.” Ser Aymeric stammered. “I did not intend to-”

“Forgive me, Ser Aymeric.” I sighed in defeat.

 

_Why am I suddenly so irritable?_

 

Surely Ser Aymeric didn’t mean any harm! He is here in good faith with a gift no less. Pull yourself together.

“My…my hands are aching.” Not a complete lie. “Perhaps we can continue this conversation…sitting down?”

“Of course. And there’s nothing to forgive, my friend.”

Ser Aymeric then motioned his arm towards the gazebo. I took a step back. It was the same gazebo where my beloved and I decided to get married. I did not expect to return to it as an infirm. Nay, I intended to ask father for his blessing the next time I used the gazebo but the gods have their plans.

Bataar assisted me on the chair and wheeled me to the structure. I daresay 50% of me felt like carted produce ready for the market and the other 50% made me feel like someone too important to walk! It felt unearthly – yet oddly amusing.

Once we were all seated, I beckoned to Bataar.

“Can you make some tea?”

“Tea?” Ser Aymeric interjected. “You hate tea—erm, I mean, _this is new_.”

I caught myself exhaling like father. Ah, so this is what silent irritation feels like. I hope it wasn’t too obvious. Ser Aymeric has done nothing wrong. So instead of snarling at Aymeric for no good reason, I diverted my attention to my chirurgeon.

“What tea would you like?” Bataar inquired. “The flavor depends on the tribe – or would you prefer the brew from Ishgard? I can procure some leaves from the market…”

“Do you know how she makes it?”

“The khagan?”

I nodded. I hoped I could relive the memory – perhaps it would soothe my temper.

“Ah…the _Doman’s_ brew.” Bataar did his best to hide his scoff. “A simple flavor with one ingredient. It will be like childsplay.”

 

_Watch yourself, Bataar._

 

It was a quick brew and it tasted as simple as Bataar said. The flavor was different from what she gave me that day but I relished every sip all the same. If this tea was something she liked – then I must understand why. That way, we can enjoy it together when the day comes.

Ser Aymeric, on the other hand, looked at his cup questioningly. He liked his tea with milk and syrup – like a baby. Bataar refused to partake, in fear of ‘dishonoring his tribe for drinking _bland_ Doman tea’. Instead he attended to my hands. Lucia on the other hand, made no grievances and sipped her cup with dignity.

 

_Thank the Fury for Lucia._

 

“Ser Aymeric, I request passage to Camp Dragonhead.” I said before anyone can ask me how I was feeling for the nth time.

“…...May I ask why?”

 

It seems my earlier snaps have made our meticulous Ser Aymeric more wary than ever. Despite the pause, it’s amazing how quickly he adapts to avoid confrontation. Unfortunately for him, I was no politician, so I must speak plain.

“My staff don't like Emmanellain. They have also reported of vagrants in the area. I must make sure they’re safe.”

“The issue is, Lord Haurchefant…” Ser Aymeric set his cup beside him. “Lord Emmanellain runs Camp Dragonhead _now_. As much as they love you, the staff are no longer yours to command. You are no longer under any obligation to-”

“I just—” I raised a now bandaged hand in apology for cutting him off. “I just want to know if they’re alright. _Please_. I will not refuse any escorts or conditions, just grant me to passage to Camp Dragonhead.”

“You there!" Lucia suddenly called Bataar. “You can fight, can you not?”

“My mother would have dropped me down a canyon if I could not.” Bataar deadpanned.

Lucia then turned to Aymeric. “I see no problem, my lord. Even with the war over, Camp Dragonhead’s effectiveness and productivity have decreased too much since the transition. Perhaps it is best that Lord Haurchefant looks into the matter.” 

Ser Aymeric finally took a sip from his cup. The quick morphing of his face due to the lack of milk and syrup from the beverage was hysterical – I forgot I was slightly crossed with him!

“Very well. Make your preparations and be quick!” Ser Aymeric stood up and turned to face the manor. “You must return by sundown. I will talk to Lord Edmondt whilst you’re away. It would not do his heart any good if he knew you went beyond the gates. Am I understood?”

“Thank you, Ser Aymeric.”

 

Thank _you_ , Lucia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More challenges up ahead, Haurchie! Can you deal???


	7. Memoirs of a Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Select entries from Lord Haurchefant Greystone's journal written in his hand during the Seventh Astral Era.

_Within the Fury’s Gaze I confess to the following:_

_When the Warrior of Light and her companions: young Alphinaud and Master Cid Garlond first came to our hamlet, I knew something was afoot. Before our guests reached my presence, I was already informed of their purpose. They were looking for the Enterprise – a Garlean airship seized by the troops at Stone Vigil five years ago._

_I would be lying if I say I did not suspect our new guests for Imperial spies the moment they mentioned the airship._

_-Until I saw her._

_Most men would’ve failed to see the essence of her beauty: her strength. Clad in iron and steel, she carried a sizeable beast on her back. She called it a gift of good faith – fresh meat for everyone at the camp. She had no trouble carrying the beast – nay, she made it look easy. Her weapons were well maintained, aye – but the permanent scratches on them only made it obvious that she was a seasoned fighter._

_I confess my heart skipped._

_Still, spies must deceive. Despite my dear friend Francel’s letter vouching for her honor, I have a responsibility to keep the people working for me safe._

_It pains me to admit, but I did my best to delay our guests’ efforts while gauging their authenticity. From petty chores to slightly dangerous skirmishes, I subjected her to tasks she didn’t deserve._

_Garlean spies, from my experience, are wont to think themselves highly. Their pride always broke them from a week’s worth of menial chores. And yet she accomplished her tasks with nary a grumble!_

_Still, I had my doubts._

_Only when I witnessed her sparring session with the recruits from the battlements, did I begin to lower my guard._

_With three green boys trying their luck, she patiently dodged each and reminded the lads to keep their shields up. She instructed them how to grip the hilt properly, how to swing,_ **_where_ ** _to swing. Most knights would flip the poor lads on their bums in a split second. And_ **_that_ ** _would be the lesson._

_“Keep your shields up or I’ll cut your ears!” she said._

_Ha! The phrase alone reminded me of my mentor: Ser Firmien of Camp Everlakes._

_He threatened my ears once and I knew how to use a shield by heart._

_I wonder if he would approve of her?_

_With each passing day, I found myself thinking of her more and more. Soon, she was the subject of our residents’ talks. Through her efforts a missing daughter was found, a ring from a perished lover was recovered, and our cook found in her a friend._

_In this time of war, she took time to be kind. And here I am calling her friend when I suspected her otherwise._

 

_Oh, Halone forgive me._

 

* * *

 

_A week has passed since our guests arrived.  
_

_There was a spy in our midst. I thank Halone everyday that it was not she. Nay, it was a Dravanian heretic masquerading the inquisitor he had murdered. The proud lords of the region couldn’t believe themselves – how they blindly believed the man and sent many innocents to their deaths._

_My bosom friend, Francel, was almost put to death at the imposter’s order. Had it not for her help, I was certain I would have lost my first friend in the world. I cannot imagine what I would do to myself if Francel were lost._

_From this day forward, let it be known that she is nothing less than my hero. And with a clear conscience, I can now truly call her friend._

_Alas, our joyous days were numbered the moment they were granted passage to the Stone Vigil to retrieve their airship. I confess that part of me wished that she would stay longer._

_It was selfish of me._

 

_May the Fury forgive me._

 

* * *

 

_After the incident with the false inquisitor, House Durendaire had granted our guests passage to the Stone Vigil.  
_

 

_It was the night of the Stone Vigil’s liberation from the Dravanian Horde. I prayed for the Warrior of Light’s success in locating the airship and I’m pleased to testify that Halone has answered my prayers!_

_She made quick work of the dragons in the ruins. I admit, I was nothing short of impressed._

_It was a miracle that the airship had the structural integrity to fly. I am no mechanic, aye, but it was obvious that the Enterprise was in poor condition. The noise from years of neglect echoed in the night as it flew over Coerthas towards Gridania._

_She told me she meant to fight Garuda, a primal._

_Halone knows how much I prayed for her. Halone knows how much I couldn’t believe I had the passion to pray for someone I have only met a week ago. Halone knows how I longed to be beside her in battle._

 

_Like a mad widow I prayed at the camp’s intercessory every dawn and every dusk. I was worried for her. By Halone's good grace I found myself in the city. I was to make my reports and somehow I found myself at the cathedral._

_There I quietly slid to the backmost pew and prayed._

_This is where I have always been – my stepmother made sure of that. I did not mind. Be bastard or trueborn, the Fury hears us all the same._

_I was in the middle of prayer when a hand patted my shoulder. I took a few moments to finish begging the Fury before looking at my visitor. It was my brother, Artoirel. After an exchange of silent greetings, we exited the cathedral to chat._

_“I’m here for father’s knee.” Artoirel said nonchalantly. “He refuses to take the medicine and what else is there but prayer?”_

_“Perhaps we should mix it with his tea.” I grinned. “He wouldn’t be wiser.”_

_“Nay! He detests it so, he can smell our betrayal a yalm a way.” Artoirel smiled, amused. “What brings you here, brother? Something ails you?”_

_“I’m praying for someone.”_

_“Is it old Med? She ought to retire, the cold’s not good for her bones.”_

_“No, Meduil is fine. It’s just that my friend is…I’m worried for her.”_

_“Her?” Artoirel raised an eyebrow. “I see. I understand...”_

_I raised my own brow, urging him to continue and explain._

_“I was at Camp Dragonhead yesterday for a routine inspection.” I cocked my head to the side, I was sure I did not see him. “You were not at your desk. One of your officers told me you were at the intercessory – praying, of all things!”_

_Oh._

_“You’ve been there, day and night. It’s obvious.”_

_“Obvious?”_

_“Oh, my sweet baby brother,” Artoirel placed both of his hands on my shoulders and sighed. “You’re in love.”_

_Oh no._

_“You jest, brother. I can’t possibly be!” I brushed off his hands. “A person of my status would be foolish to pursue such things.”_

_“Only if she’s a noble. Is she?”_

_I shook my head. “An adventurer.”_

_“Then what is the problem?” Artoirel seized my shoulders once more and gave it a hearty shook. “Bring her over for tea some time, brother. I best be off!”_

_Without another word Artoirel turned on his heels and entered the cathedral with a slight skip in his step. I smiled to myself, glad of his joy._

_But was I really?_

 

_Halone, grant me thy wisdom._

 

* * *

 

_The sun shines brighter this moon as the seasons change. Days are slightly longer and warmer. Yet I cannot help but feel troubled lately._

_It had been a full week since my encounter with Artoirel and his words troubled me so. Perhaps there was merit in his speculation. She was the bulk of my thoughts. I admire her strength and skill as a fellow warrior. The glow of the sun caught in her eyes makes the color burn with the fury–OH WHAT AM I SAYING?_

_Talks of her victory had spread throughout the realm and yet I’ve heard nothing of her whereabouts. What was she doing? Who is she with? Is she safe?_

_I confess I hit my head on my desk out of worry. Thrice._

_“Oh, thank you!” I heard Medguistl out the courtyard. Her voice was jolly enough it pierced through the stone walls. “Our knights will be well fed tonight, thanks to you. Oh, how my knife will sing as it cut fresh meat! Come to the kitchen and witness the splendor!”_

 

 **_She’s here._ ** _No one else can make Medguistl go on a delight-filled monologue about her knives._

 

_I quickly got up and ran out the courtyard._

_“My friend! Praise the Fury that you have returned to us hale and whole!” I greeted with my brightest smile, “What brings you here? Here for our famous roasted karakul?”_

_“Hello, Lord Haurchefant,” she chuckled slightly at my enthusiasm. “You’re as lively as ever. As for me…I’m just here for the coin, typical Ul’dahn.”_

_She tried to tidy herself up as she talked. “Forgive me, I’m not presentable…lots of grime and blood...Medguistl made quite a tall order.”_

_Medguistl gave me a sheepish grin. Behind her was a cartload of boar meat from the Central Shroud. She wished to smoke the meat and fill our larders with ham and bacon – enough to last us for moons._

_“Oh, no. Thank you, for all this_ **_trouble_ ** _. It must have been quite a_ **_journey_ ** _.” I stressed some words towards Medguistl. “I wonder how we will be able to_ **_pay_ ** _for such a boon.”_

_“Oh, it’s on me.” She shrugged._

_“Pardon?”_

_“A gift, Lord Haurchefant. You helped us locate the airship and vouched for my honor when the false inquisitor and everybody else questioned it. Please take it.”_

_I stuttered for an answer. Free food is always welcome, aye, but it doesn’t feel right to just accept it. However, the hopeful smile on her face made it impossible to refuse._

  _“As you wish, my lady.” I sighed and Medguistl let out a cheer. “Ah, but please join us for supper! You must sample the toils of our cook. Her joy will certainly add flavor into the meat.”_

_“That’s a payment I’m willing to take.” She beamed. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered in glee._

_“Not very Ul’dahn of you.” I remarked, amused._

_“Aha, so it is!” She burst out laughing. “I suppose your generous hospitality rubbed off on me, my lord!”_

_Oh the sound of her laughter shames the angels in Vault’s own choir! I wanted to embrace her then and there but stopped myself before making a scene in the courtyard._

_“I’ll see you at dinner then.”_

 

_Oh, Halone, tis’ an undeniable truth: there was merit in Artoirel's words.  
_

 

* * *

 

_How do I say this without sounding like a complete traitorous heretic?_

_Dear Halone,_

_I am in love with a woman born from another country: the jewel of the desert, Ul'dah. She was named under the Traders: Nald’Thal while I was named under the Fury: Halone. If it displeases the Fury, I ask for forgiveness. I pray that Nald’Thal find me a worthy suitor of his daughter._

_She is a fearsome warrior; she strikes true with honor. Her beautiful hands are calloused from countless battles, defending the weak and innocent. Her heart is dutiful and kind yet her eyes sometimes dim of loneliness despite the praise of the many._

_Her deeds move the inferno, the crags, the vortex – she moves the glaciers – she moves my world. I ask the Fury that she grant me her blessing – to have the privilege to embrace her loneliness away._

_Halone grant me the courage for what I am about to do next._

 

_…_

 

 _It was a quarter to midnight when the Warrior of Light made ready to return to Thanalan. I bade Medguistl to prepare her a set of packed meals for her long journey, and helped her mount her chocobo myself._  

_“Such a gentleman you are, Lord Haurchefant.” She chuckled. “I can mount my chocobo just fine.”_

_“Yes, but I want to see you off properly tonight.”_

_“Why’s that?”_

_“In truth, my lady, I’ve been pondering for weeks…”_

_Aside from a nod, she made no reply to let me continue. Her eyes focused on me, I couldn’t help but drown a little in them._

_“Take heart: Camp Dragonhead is forever grateful for your deeds. Anyone who refuses that fact is a fool. You are a hero and you will always have a friend and a home here. That said, there is more I want to say. Will you let me?”_

_She stopped a chuckle with a tight lipped smile as if to say ‘you always have more to say!’ She nods as was her wont and I took a deep breath._

_“I want to get to know you better. I want to know what makes you laugh, what food you love best, what activities you most enjoy. I want to know your hopes and dreams, and I will strive to help you achieve them.”_

_Her chocobo whistled as I finished my spiel. What a wing man! I let go of the reins and looked up at her – hopeful._

_“It would be my honor, if you permit me to court you.”_

_She gripped the reins and I thought she would ride away never to be seen again but instead she flushed and stuttered, all for me to see._

_“Are you sure? I mean—I’m flattered. Truly. I don’t think I mind, but...”_

_“But?”_

_“I do not want to leave you hopeful. I could die at any moment. What if I don’t come back?”_

_“You will.” I smiled confidently. “Should you lose heart – just remember that I wholeheartedly believe you. Give me a call and I will cheer on top of these mountains if need be. The gods will be so sick of my voice, they will have no choice but to let you win!”_

_Through my speech I motioned myself hiking invisible mountains, struggling like an old man with an invisible cane. When I reached the summit, I proceeded to make tiny jumps and pumped my fists in the air – whispering my cheers to the wind: “Long live the Warrior of Light! Long may she reign! Long may she reign!”_

_Oh that night will forever be etched in memory. She belly laughed so hard she slipped off her chocobo and into my arms. We fell back first into a snow pile and laughed ourselves silly._

_The snow was powdery and we struggled to get any hold or footing to get up. We were lucky the courtyard was abandoned and only the sleepy sentries were on the battlements. What a silly sight we were – a huge pile of snow with only our legs visible and wiggling in the air!_

_Finally we stopped to catch our breaths and found ourselves at a scandalous proximity to each other – breathing each other’s air. She was on top of me and our eyes searched each other for explanation._

_“Do I have the permission to write you often, then?” I asked, batting my eyelashes in plea._

_She lightly kissed the tip of my nose. I flustered profusely it’s a wonder why the snow did not melt._

_“Don’t write anything dirty, Lord Haurchefant.” she giggled before pushing against my chest to get up. “I’ll see you soon.”_

_And that was the start of the rest of my life._

 

_Halone, Nald’Thal, bless us as you see fit._

 

* * *

 

I closed the tome and looked outside the cart. We’re almost at Camp Dragonhead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know the man loved and worshipped us but Lord Haurchefant is still a mortal man with his doubts. I hope you like my take on his development :3c


	8. Bastards and Broken Lords

“Halt! Who goes there?”

Our wagon stopped as Bataar and I hid ourselves among the merchandise. For father’s sake, we resolved to go incognito - a swift check on the situation and leave by sundown. For our purpose we rented out a humble merchant cart owned by one of our allies in the Brume. Before we departed Ishgard, Bataar sent a falcon to Yaelle. Only my officers know of my presence to avoid any unnecessary distractions.

“Hilda the Mongrel,” announced our carriage driver. “I’ve come to give your Lord Emmanellain a good scolding!”

“Ha! If only a scold would do the job, my lady!” The sentry bellowed. “I bid you good luck. Raise the gates!”

 

_Gates?_

 

I risked a peak from my hiding place and saw a new Camp Dragonhead. Her towering walls and battlements now feature a full sized iron gate. As the cart pressed forward, the sounds of a busy settlement rang through my ears. By the Fury! Camp Dragonhead was never busy before!

The camp had a throng of people from all walks of life akin to a tiny city. Merchants from all over Eorzea had come to trade: colorful tropical fruits from Vylbrand, fresh vegetables and livestock from the Black Shroud, and shimmering tapestries and jewels from Thanalan. No wonder the sentries did not find our merchant cart suspicious! 

It didn’t take long before our wagon settled in a quiet spot at the eastern gate. No one wanted to be anywhere near Witchdrop, of course.

“Alright boys, this is where I drop you off.” Hilda said without facing us. She hopped off the driver’s seat and walked towards the back of the wagon. “The chirurgeon can pretend to be one of my workers while the Lord here pretends to be an opportunistic cripple. Got it?”

“I’m not a cripple!” I grumbled.

 _“And I’m not a bastard!_ My lord father would be delighted! Why, I can almost see him coming here to apologize for tossing my mother out on the street after he squirted me into her belly.”

“I...I’m sorry.”

Hilda shoved an old tin cup to my hands. “Perhaps you never noticed, _bastard_ \- since you’ve been living in the Pillars and all. Everybody _loves_ a poor soul asking for alms. Everybody. Wave this cup around and you're invisible!”

I ran a thumb through the cup and examined it’s dents. It was ancient. I could feel something written on the bottom. I flipped the object and saw the carving:

_Hilda_

“Forgive me, Miss Hilda. I never knew.” I whispered, head low. “Hilda the Mongrel. I thought you just wanted to sound dangerous.”

Hilda clicked her tongue, “Nay, it’s me who went overboard. I shouldn’t have...I don’t know why I said all that. Forgive me, Lord Haurchefant.”

She crossed her arms and leaned against another cart. With her lips shut tight she looked somewhere far off - her red eyes shining.

“Ah, there’s naught to forgive. Thank you for getting us here, Miss Hilda.”

“Right then...” she said, rubbing the back of her head. “Meet me here in two bells. We need to get you back in the city by sundown.”

“Got it.”

Bataar helped me get off the cart and I supported myself on the cane. With a hood on, I raised the cup as threateningly as I could.

 _“Alms! Alms! The Fury knows yer heeeearts! The Fury shall smite your greeeed!”_ I cried in a screechy voice.

“Well, well!" Hilda turned her head back to me,"That’s a decent impression.”

" _I’ve beeenn in the Bruuume for elevennn yeeearrsss. I’m no stranger to the grime, girlyyyy...”_ I grinned before turning on my heal to leave.

As I limped through the courtyard I could feel Hilda and Bataar’s gazes on my back. Ah, how they fret over me! I’ve never been fussed over since I was a child.

With a snail’s pace I eventually waddled my way to the main hall. It looked the same as ever, aside from the vendors that setup shop at every nook and cranny. Commerce is booming in Coerthas all thanks to the peace given to us by my beloved hero of heroes. Still, my staff expressed their concern - something hardy folk aren’t wont to do.

_Damn my knees are aching by the second!_

I looked at the main hall’s double doors for a while. Beyond those heavy iron-cast oaken doors is my little brother - what am I to say to him? _‘Hello, I’m back to tell you that you’re doing a terrible job?’_  Will my words even have merit? Camp Dragonhead is teaming with life - it doesn’t make sense!  Can I even open the door at all?

 

I was breathless when I finally managed to push the door open.

 _“Alms, alm’s for the poor!"_ Fortunately, my labored breath only added to my act. _"The Fury knows yer hearts and the measure of yer greed!”_

My eyes scanned the room. Oddly enough, Emmanellain did not sit at my old desk. Instead, he used the large meeting table at the center of the hall. Yaelle on the other hand, was minding the books. Her eyes quickly spotted me the moment she heard my voice.

“Come by the fire, sir. We have soup to spare.”

_“Bless ye a thousand fold, dearie.”_

I started walking towards her, Yaelle came to my aid and assisted me on a chair. She then slips me a note hidden at the mug’s handle:

 _Keep your head low and listen. Do_ **_not_ ** _do anything._

I was halfway into folding the note when a group of burly men barged through the door. From their heavy steps and their deep voice alone I could tell that they were Roegadyn. The accent - from La Noscea. Merchants? No…

“Emmanellain! Good to se ye! I hope ye’ve got yer tithe.”

_Tithe?_

“W-We’re a few hundred gil short this moon, my friends. Might you wait a little longer?”

“How long are we talking, _friend?_ ”

“Three days, perhaps?”

“I’ll consider it.” I heard a pulling of a chair. “If ye lemme have a go at yer friend over there. Hey, you! Girl, what’s yer name?” 

I clenched the piece of paper between my thumbs. Don’t do anything, she said. How could I? My blood is boiling as we speak.

“I decline.” Yaelle deadpanned. “I only enjoy the company of women.”

“Perhaps ye haven’t had a proper man, missy. I’ll change yer mind.”

Don’t do anything - be damned. I’m not letting them touch any of my people.

 _“Good sir! Might ye have spare coin?”_ I got up from my chair, legs straining to hold my weight. _“The Fury rewards the generous!”_  

From underneath my hood I could see Yaelle silently panicking. She was probably cursing me for going against the plan - but my people are in danger. What am I to do? As long as my lifeblood flows, I will do something about it.

“Begone old man! Didn’t ya hear? I’ve got nothin’ cos our friend ‘ere is thousands of gil short!”  
  
“Thousands?” Emmanellain cried. “We’re only a few hundred behind.”

“Interest.” The stranger said plainly. “If ye want to see that boy again, ye will have the coin. Or should we add missy here to yer collateral?”

I knew not what to do. I could spill this soup on this godsdamned whoreson _and_ give everyone more grief. _Or_ I could just do as Yaelle said:

Do nothing.

“I will have the coin.” Emmanellain sighed. “ _Please_ , give us three days. I’ll pay.”

“Ye need to shell out three hundred thousand for being three days late.”

“...Three hundred thousand. I swear it.”

Satisfied, the strangers left - slamming the doors behind them. My hands were shaking. Nay, every part of me quaked with resentment - at the man, at Emmanellain, at _myself_ for being as useful as a decrepit old man.

 

“You a-alright, o-old girl?” Emmanellain stuttered. “I can’t let them take you too.”

“Nothing he said was new to me, my lord. I’m alright.” Yaelle said. “But three hundred thousand? Where are we going to get that amount? Our men will starve.”

Emmanellain remained silent - no doubt pondering where to get such an amount. One might think a noble wouldn’t worry about money but once you’re beyond the safety of the city, every coin counts. I lifted my hood and straightened up.

“Yes, do pray tell where you’ll get the coin.” I said as calmly as possible.

“Haurchefant, what are you doi---you’re awake!”

Yaelle dragged a chair towards me and I sat on my own this time - an achievement for the day. With my cane in front of me, I addressed my little brother like a wise old sage.

“Aye, I’m awake. And Camp Dragonhead is in a bit of a trouble it seems.”

Do not berate. Explain. _Calmly_.

“Ser Aymeric visited me earlier.” I continued. “Miss Lucia mentioned the loss of productivity here. My first instinct told me that the recruits were slacking off but I forget myself: _I am now living after the war._ Camp Dragonhead didn’t lag behind making soldiers, it lagged in paying its taxes. Is that right, Emmanellain?” 

He nods quietly, eyes downcast on the floor. I waited for him.

“They were adventurers, you see. They said they can escort merchants here from all over the realm. There was a fee. It’s only fair but...but it increased too quickly more than we can earn. We tried increasing the fees for vending here but it only turned away a number of people. They ate their fill and took our food stores the second time we couldn’t pay, and then took Honoroit on the third. The poor lad…”

“Honoroit survived you, he can survive any old fool.” _Oops, there it is!_ I smiled at Emmanellain to signal my jest, hopefully he wasn’t offended.

“The boy’s tough, my lord. We’ll get him back.” Yaelle reassured him.

Thank you Yaelle.

“The problem is the coin.”

_Please, Yaelle._

“We can borrow it, I guess. Or we can have the Warrior of Light chase them away-”

“-Do not bring her into this.” I interjected. “This is the result of your own doing, Emmanellain. Fix it like a proper Lord.”

“That’s easy for you to say! You’ve always been perfect!" Emmanellain dropped to his elbows and knees. The stone floor glistened as they were dampened by his tears. I motioned Yaelle to lock the doors to at least give him the privacy to grieve.

"You brought the Warrior of Light to Ishgard. You blocked a lance aimed at her. You’re the hero’s hero! How do you expect me to measure up to that? All people ever do here was worry about you: when will you wake, when will you return, when will you send this useless oaf home? I’m doing the best I can but the first time I took initiative it came down to ruin! And Honoroit---I’m his lord and I still--”

I remained silent not knowing how to comfort my own brother. Instead I pondered how to earn such an amount in three days. Ah, but I get ahead of myself. Emmanellain needs a brother more than coin now. What to say? What to say? What-- 

“Meet me at the eastern gate, There’s something I need to show you.” I said as I got up and put on my hood. “I need to leave before sundown.”

 

Soon Emmanellain arrived at our meeting spot. I waited for him in the cart like a hermit and he had the initiative to help me get on the ground. We walked together behind the wagons towards the side of the residential building. There, some lavenders have popped up through the snow. Among the flowers three small stone stacks lined up like soldiers.

“I can’t remember their faces anymore.” I started. “Three months into my post and this happened...”

Emmanellain took a step back, and then looked at me. “House Dzemael’s boys...”

“Aye. But none of them bore the Dzemael name; they were all Greystone. Three bastard boys sent to Camp Dragonhead to train as knights. None were older than 18 summers and none survived my idiocy.” I sighed, the memory clawing at the back of my heart. “Their task was simple, you see. I sent them on a supply run down a road to the city. It always succeeded, the road was safe. Was.”

“You have no control over the heretics’ movements, brother. It was unfortunate, aye, but not your fault.”

“Dzemael’s eldest son was pledged to the Heavensward, Emmanellain. Three bastards may as well have a shot at the position.”

“...But that’s dirty-”

“You’re 29 now, aren’t you Emmanellain? Try to act as if you weren’t born yesterday.” I said with a pat on his shoulder. “Everyone makes mistakes. People have died by my orders more than you can imagine. Honoroit lives--"

"We don't know that."

"What good is a dead hostage? Emmanellain...I need you to have a clear head."

"Alright..."

"I thank you for upholding Camp Dragonhead’s hospitality but I also urge you to take care. Observe and judge each person’s character before you let them in our gates. You have a responsibility to keep _your_ people safe. Can you do that?”

“My people? You...you’re not sending me home?”

“Only Artoirel can send you home. Besides, you have a good heart - a good foundation for any leader but not everything you need. Promise me you’ll work on yourself.”

"I promise." Emmanellain smiled a little and placed his hand on his chest. “I’ll make you proud.” 

Despite my lingering doubts, I put on my bravest face and my cheeriest voice. With hostages and ransoms, Camp Dragonhead _is_ at the mercy of vagrants. The lack of military assistance from the Holy See only tells me that Emmanellain did not report any of this - perhaps out of shame. What I say now can make or break him.

 

“You will.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emmanellain needs a good slap of reality and a breakdown to grow :3c
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading this far!  
> It would be awesome to hear from you. Please tell me which parts you liked best or if you find something I could improve in, please don't shy away from telling me :D I'm also open to spilling tea on the characters if you want that.
> 
> Thank you


	9. The Name Greystone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Artoirel's turn to have a break down :U

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter as the original wasn't a natural realistic progression.  
> To start reading the changes, you can CTRL F to where we left off:  
> (( “Hello?” The door creaked open. ))  
> Thank you for your patience!

We made it back barely on time.

 

The sun was kissing the peaks when we arrived at the Last Vigil. Bataar carried me up the manor walls and entered my chambers through the bay window. In our hurry, the healing incense oils spilled on our way in. Out of panic we sacrificed a pillow _after_ we spotted an old shirt. Bataar grimaced at the mess.

“Worry not, I’ll just use that one in case my legs ache.” I said reassuringly.

“I apologize still.” Bataar sighed. “Those oils don’t wash out.”

“Like I said, think nothing of it.”

With cane in hand I limped to my bed and propped myself with my journal to look as if I’ve been there all day. Bataar quietly opened the door to inspect our surroundings. Through the gap I could hear the chronometer chiming and Ser Aymeric bidding Father farewell. Always the punctual one, that Ser Aymeric.

 

And then there were footsteps.

 

“Bataar,” I whispered. “Someone’s coming--”

Bataar looked left and right, inspecting the corridors. “I don’t see any--Lord Artoirel, good evening.”

“Good evening, Bataar.” Artoirel greeted pleasantly. _That’s new_. The Artoirel I know always had his nose up in the air whenever foreigners were concerned. Oh wait...that’s right. I’m in the future now. Come on me, keep up!

“I will speak to Haurchefant. Alone, if you please.”

“O-Of course.” Bataar held the door open for Artoirel to enter. “Pray remind him to take his medication a bell after supper.”

“I will.”

After a polite exchange of bows, Bataar had gone and Artoirel gave me a soft smile. There were bags under his eyes, and his dark circles were darker than ever. I suppose being count and a father does that.

“How are you feeling, brother?”

I checked my arms first before giving him a grin. “Everything seems attached.”

“Oh, have you checked your third leg then?”

Eyes wide I lifted the covers and checked what’s underneath my breeches. What an exchange it would be if I lived through a lance of light only for it to destroy my most trusted tool in pleasuring my lady. Artoirel let out a hearty laugh that quickly faded as soon as it came.

“Forgive me brother, I jest. I scarcely have the opportunity to crack jokes nowadays.”

Ah, his voice is coarse - lack of sleep, I bet.

“You’re not one to jest in the first place. Anyway, you’ll be glad to know that it _is_ still there.”

“Good, good.” Artoirel sighed as he pulled up a chair beside my bed.

We chatted for a bell with nary a worry. Artoirel had his supper brought to my room and we continued talking as we ate. It was nice to have this quiet moment. However, I found it odd that Artoirel never mentioned a wife or a child. I mean by now, with his position-

“Listen well brother, I have a favor to ask of you.” Artoirel said after a brief pause. “It’s about Camp Dragonhead...”

So he was lulling me for the big news, I see. I kept my lips sealed and nodded. What good is an incognito trip if I tell Artoirel right away that _‘yes, I do know there’s a problem going on’?_ I folded my hands together and paid him my full attention.

“...We haven’t had proper word from Emmanellain in moons. His letters are all very standard; no complaints, no requests for help - it’s all suspicious.”

“That’s a bad thing? You _do_ want our brother to succeed, yes?”

“Of course I do. But this sudden independence? Something is amiss. Lately I’ve been receiving letters of resignation from the staff. It only ceased when they found out that you were awake.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Return to Camp Dragonhead.” Artoirel said plainly. “Lead, like you’ve always used to.”

“Me? Lead? With this body?”

“The war is over, Haurchefant. You only need to sit at your desk and command every cog. I’m a right fool for letting my emotions decide for me back then. Emmanellain should stay home where he bel-”

“-And what good will that do?” I caught myself snap. “Forgive me, Artoirel, but idleness will kill a man. You have the right of it, aye: the war is long past. Let Emmanellain grow in a challenging role during a time of peace.”

“Peace." Artoirel scoffed. "Without the distractions of dragons the High Houses have been talking endlessly about our family. Camp Dragonhead’s taxes have been late, nay, _non existent_ for moons - taxes needed to rebuild Ishgard. There are also other matters but...”

As if totally defeated Artoirel hunched down towards his knees and pinched the bridge of his nose. Count Artoirel de Fortemps, oh the burdens you bear.

“I can’t do this, Haurchefant. I can’t do this alone.”

“You don’t have to. You have Emmanellain.”

Dear gods, what am I saying? If all I need to do is sit at my desk all day, then surely a cripple---I can accomplish that. I’ll have my purpose back, my staff, the familiarity and comfort of home. It’s right within reach - one word - and everything will be as it was!

But what of Emmanellain? What of Honoroint and the three thousand gil?

 

“Hello?” The door creaked open.

 

Artoirel and I turned to the source. There she was, our adorable little door gap gremlin. Behind her was another young elezen lass with short black hair and blue eyes. She was around Honoroit’s age and worked in the kitchens if I recall correctly.

“Saulette?” I called to the older girl. “Is that you? You’ve gotten taller!”

“My lord!” She exclaimed, “Welcome back. Ah, um--forgive us. We didn’t mean to barge in-”

“-Then why did you barge in?” Artoirel barked.

Saulette’s eyes widened as she gripped the smaller girl’s shoulders - her mouth slightly opened in a quiet gasp. I knew that face all too well.

“Artoirel, please don’t shout at the children.”

“Children shouldn’t be eavesdropping.”

“But my Moggy...” said Artoirel’s little girl.

“Moggy? What’s a moggy?” I asked.

“It’s my lady’s stuffed moogle, my lord.” Saulette replied. “She said she left it here...”

Artoirel clicked his tongue and folded his arms. I caught myself glaring at him as he did. Fortunately he was busy giving the children his own cold gaze to even notice mine. The years have not been kind to my brother.

“Now is not the time to be searching through your lord’s chambers for missing toys.”

“M-my apologies, Lord---Count Artoirel. By your leave, we shall go.” Saulette stuttered, head low - refusing to look at my brother in the eye. The little lady on the other hand, looked at Artoirel pleadingly.

“But my Moggy-”

Artoirel let out an exasperated sigh. With his eyes shut he turned away from them.

“Ask the servants for another toy, Sol! I am busy.”

The girls left the room as quietly as they came. The sound of the door slowly closing shut was the most painfully awkward sound I’ve heard since I woke. How embarrassing - how frightening it would have been to be scolded like that.

Artoirel hunched forward and buried his face in his hands.

“Forgive me, Haurchefant. That wasn’t proper - that wasn’t...very Count-like.”

“Tis not I you should apologize to, dear brother.” I wanted to reach out and gently pat his back but, Halone only knows if he might lash out or not. “Perhaps you should get some rest. Fatherhood is no walk in the park, I reckon.”

“Oh? Ah, she...she isn’t mine.”

 

_I beg your pardon?_

 

“Oh, Emmanellain beat us to it then? That’s unexpected.”

Artoirel refused to face me. Face still in his hands, he whispered something inaudible to most ears.

“Forgive me, brother. I shouldn’t have shouted at her.”

“What are you saying?”

Instead of answering my query, Artoirel got up and looked at me, ever so forlorn. He placed a hand on my shoulder and shook it gently.

“It’s not mine place to say. As for Camp Dragonhead, think about it. We’ll talk again soon. Don’t forget your medicine.”

 

And he was out the door.

 

Dumbfounded and frustrated, I sat in my bed in silence. I glanced at the elixir on my bedside table and scarcely had interest in taking it. What in the world do I want? Just this morning I was eager to walk and take my place in Dragonhead, then I completely handed it over to Emmanellain in an afternoon, and now…

 

_What do I want? What should I do? Why do I hesitate?_

 

Oh gods damn it!

The pain slowly hummed back to existence and I reached for the elixir. No use mulling things over with a drilling ache in my entire torso. As I reached for it, I fell on my elbow and a squeak caught my attention. I glanced down and my elbow had landed on a pillow.

Odd, pillows don’t squeak.

I lifted the pillow and found a curious object underneath - a white plush that resembled an obscenely fat gaelicat. It was so large its wings were tiny in comparison that I highly doubt such a creature would be able to fly. On top of its head was a round pink ball and around its neck was a pendant tied with a silk ribbon.

The pendant read: Moggy.

“A pleasure to meet you, Moggy.” I greeted the toy as if it could answer back. “Your mistress misses you so.”

With a new temporary purpose I took my medicine and made my way out the door.

 

The hall was empty - good - no one to stop me from limping to wherever I want to go. As I continued on, the hall grew dark. I tapped my cane on the ground and the blue crystal embedded in it lit up. As grand as the manor was, it did not care for well lit corridors. Windows were limited on the upper floors to keep out the cold afterall.

Now then, if I was a wee lass of three years and I just got scolded, where will I hide? Any sensible person would retreat to their private chambers, lock themselves in, and cry themselves to sleep. But not I. No, no, no, that’s entirely too predictable.

If I were she, where would I be?

She was quiet enough to open the door without us noticing. She saw Artoirel and I speaking. And yet she made that little ‘hello.’ She knew the consequences and yet she still called out to us. Why? She was determined to get her toy. If I were her…

I would wait outside the chambers I last saw Moggy and sneak my way in when the scoldy man--Artoirel had gone. Brilliant!

 

Now I have to limp back.

 

_Absolutely brilliant._

 

By the time I returned to my chambers, the little lady was already flipping through my bed. Pillows were on the floor and the covers overturned. In her frantic search for her toy, she did not notice my presence. I gave Moggy a squeeze.

Her little ears perked up at the toy’s squeak. Her head turned to me akin to a chocobo noticing a handful of gysahl greens. I reached out to her and she immediately ducked under the covers and made a shield out of the nearest pillow.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I'm sorry! I’ll fix it. Please don’t shout.”

I knelt beside the bed, getting down to her eye level. “It’s alright. Calm down...I’m not going to shout. I found Moggy, see?”

I placed the toy on the bed for her to take and I waited.

“He misses you, so please come out.” I cooed.

Her blue eyes studied me from her pillow fort. How she managed to create such a quick formidable stronghold, I had no idea. It’s a rare talent.

“You’re not angry?”

I shook my head.

"You're sure? You're not angry at all?"

"I'm sure."

“But I messed up your room...”

“To find a friend.” I smiled. “How can I be angry for that?”

Slowly she emerged from her shell and took the toy in her embrace. She called to it in soft hushed tones as if it was her own baby. She peppered its plump face with small kisses and hugged it tightly after. I felt my heart clench at the sight.

“May I ask you a question, little lady?”

She raised Moggy to cover a bit of her face in an attempt to hide.

“Worry not, I’m not angry. I just want to know something. Is that alright with you?”

She nods meekly.

“Why was Moggy in my bed?”

Her eyebrows raised in concern. Ah, I better rephrase.

“Was this Moggy’s room? Did I sleep in the wrong bed? Silly me!”

With half of her face covered, she stifled a giggle. She shook her head enthusiastically as if to tell me how completely wrong I was.

“Oh, then did Moggy fly on his own here? You better give him a good scolding.”

“No!” She giggles. “No, no, no! Moggy can’t fly. He’s too fat!”

“I knew it! I knew he was too fat to fly. Can you imagine this plump fellow struggling to keep afloat? His poor little wings would tire as soon as he tried!”

She fell back and repeatedly kicked the air in a burst of laughter. “No! No! No! Hahaha, I just forgot--I forgot to take him back with me.”

I cannot well explain how it felt to hear her laugh. It was nothing short of a delight! My chest so light and my heart beat so happily. Yet despite all this, my knees started to hurt. I carefully got up and sat on the bed with a good distance from her.

“Do you visit me often, my lady? I’m honored.”

She rolls on the bed and sits up. Without reservations she used the plush to wipe her tears from laughing and placed Moggy on her lap.

“Grandpa and I visit you every morning. I watch him pray. Sometimes he cries so I hug him.”

“I see...how very thoughtful of you.”

She beams proudly.

“Mama told me to pray for you so you’ll wake up.”

_Mama?_

“But two people can’t do it you see. So, I thought...if Moggy can pray for you too, that makes three people! And if three people pray for you, I’m sure you’ll wake up!”

She gave me a toothy grin - my heart skipped a beat at the familiar sight. This little girl looks just like my beloved when she smiles.

And then it hit me.

Another look at the girl and it was plain to see. Her silver hair was mine and mine alone. A true mark of a Greystone bastard amidst the jet black hair of House Fortemps.

“My lady...what’s your name?”

Her blue eyes, _my_ cerulean blue eyes, looked at me as if I stared into my own reflection. Nay, this little girl not only resembled my beloved, she was a mirror image of my mother; she was a combination of the only women I loved.

“Tournesol Greystone,” she said as a matter of factly. “It means sunflower in case you didn’t know. Mama said you always gave her sunflowers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saulette is a maidservant NPC that appeared in the manor after Heavensward MSQ  
> She takes over for Honoroit as he transfers to Camp Dragonhead with Emmanellain.
> 
> She's really pretty.


	10. Moogle Messenger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote the previous chapter ( The Name Greystone ) as the original wasn't a natural realistic progression.  
> To start reading the changes, you can CTRL F to where we left off:  
> (( “Hello?” The door creaked open. ))
> 
> Please read that part before proceeding to this chapter.  
> Thank you for your patience!

For the remaining bells of the day, Tournesol spent her entire evening with me. One armful after another, she brought her toys to my chambers to “introduce” me to her “friends”. She had mountains of toys of all shapes and sizes from all parts of the realm: finely crafted dolls from Gridania, stuffed plush animals from Limsa Lominsa, and dancing figurines inside music boxes from Ul’dah.

Moggy, the stuffed moogle, was a handmade doll by my beloved. Naturally, Moggy was the king of her little kingdom and the most powerful of them all. According to Tournesol, it was obvious that Moggy was the third “person” to pray for my safe return.

Before our festivities began she made me do a pinky promise. While it may seem trifling to any adult, she offered her littlemost finger with such determination. How could I possibly refuse her? Besides, the terms are simple: One, I will not fall asleep for so long again, and Two, always abide rule number one.

It may sound simple, but it spoke volumes to me. Granted, she had a home and family to watch over her, but I still wasn’t there. To make matters worse, her mother was none other than the Warrior of Light. I suppose the nursemaid from Doma was my beloved’s idea for a substitute but I can’t imagine growing up without both parents. I at least grew up with one...at a time.

“Everyone settle down.” Tournesol addressed her neatly lined up dolls on the bed. “Papa’s awake now, so I need you all to be at your best behavior!”

Papa. Ah...so that’s what she calls me. It’s endearing, I suppose.

“Hello everyone,” I greeted the inanimate objects softly. “Nice to meet you.”

Oh, if my officers at Camp Dragonhead saw me now. What would they say? I never imagined to be in such a situation. I’ve been to war meetings where we discussed matters of strategy, and matters of life and death. But this? I’ve never felt so nervous in front of a child’s play things. Oh, I do hope they like me.

Then, a chocobo doll fell on its back.

“That’s very rude, Mr. Fuzzleplume! Get back on your bum.”

And just like that, poor Mr. Fuzzleplume had no choice but to be set back on his bum and accept Lady Tournesol’s totalitarian authority. I gave the chocobo doll a small nod to tell everyone that I forgive him for falling asleep from my very boring speech.

Now that all is forgiven, my little lady began introducing the dolls by name. Each doll had a wonderful name and unique personality. Some dolls get along better with others while some would rather play with Tournesol alone. It’s a little...concerning...but I rather not rain on a three year old’s parade.

“And lastly, King Moggy. You already met, but it’s better to have a proper introduction.”

“Spoken like true nobility, my lady.” I smiled at her and took Moggy’s paw to give it a little handshake. “Well met, King Moggy. Thank you for taking care of the little lady.”

With a gentle boop, she pushed the back of Moggy’s head for a nod. The poor thing was so fat, his chin had doubled with a simple nod.

How adorable.

“Oh! It seems Moggy has a message for us.”

I shifted in my seat a little to see. Under Moggy’s ‘pom’ a folded piece of parchment was hidden. Tournesol fished it out and looked at me expectantly.

“Can you read?”

My mouth dropped open slightly. What kind of question is that?

“Y-Yes. Yes, I can read.” I stuttered.

Her face lit up instantly and then quickly crumpled to a very discerning pout. Eyes narrowed and lips pursed, I couldn’t help but watch her in amusement. Like a tiny Warrior of Light, she was!

“What we’re about to read is highly confident information.”

“Confidential.” I corrected.

She stared at me for a good five seconds. Oh no, have I offended her?

“Forgive me my la-”

“What we’re about to read is highly _confidential_ information!” Her face went back to a pout. “It is my responsibilily-- _responsibility_ , to make sure that this information is known only to me and Papa. Garlean spies and enemies of the state shall be thrown out the window.”

Poor Mr. Fuzzleplume had to fall again.

True to her word, Tournesol threw the doll towards the window. Luckily, my windows were closed and no chocobo dolls have been truly harmed at this little meeting. Then, she turned to me.

“For security measures I must confirm your idendidi.”

“Identity.”

She gave me that piercing look again and I swallowed a chuckle.

“You better answer correctly or you will join the traitor, Mr. Fuzzleplume!”

On one hand, I would very much like to see how a three year old girl can hoist me up and throw me across the room, and on the other, I am quite terrified of said idea. Since her mother is the Warrior of Light - slayer of primals, saviour of Ishgard, titles, titles, and so on, an inhumanly strong child is not far fetched.

Thus, I decide to save my hide.

“Forgive me my lady, I shall not interrupt you again.”

“Good.” She said with a lofty nod that she most likely copied from Artoirel. “Then, what’s your name?”

I blinked. That’s another odd-

“I know very well that Papa is a codename for Papas. But Papa is not Papa’s real name!”

“Haurchefant… Greystone.” I answered.

Her smile of relief was something I could never have imagined. In truth, I expected her to frown at the mention of the name ‘Greystone’. I was about 12 summers old when I learnt what the Greystone name meant. My stepmother made sure I remembered.

When I was assigned as commander of Camp Dragonhead, I resolved to just going by “Lord Haurchefant of the Silver Sword” - never mentioning whatever last name that coexisted with my being. Yet this little girl had no inhibitions with it - not even with her own name. I wonder if anyone told her…

“Your answer is satisfactory.” She smiles. “You may now call me Lady Sol of House Greystone.”

 

 _House Greystone?_ Is that one of the noble houses in King Moggy’s kingdom? I shall never know.

 

“Lady Sol? Didn’t father called you ‘little sun’ before?”

“Oh, people call me many names! Grandpa calls me Little Sun. Mama, Uncle Aymeric, and Uncle Artoirel call me Sol. Uncle Emmanelain, Aunt Hilda, and _everyone_ in Camp Dragonhead call me Sunny. And Uncle Estinien...well, he calls me by my real name. _I_ believe he thinks he’s _special_ for not using a nickname! He's not.”

I coughed out a laugh - Oh gods, leave it to the stoic Ser Estinien to refuse the use of nicknames for a little girl!

“Furthermore,” she added. “I hereby decree that only you and mama can call me Sol. All uncles are demoted.”

I nodded repeatedly in agreement. After shouting at her, you better believe you deserved that, Artoirel.

“Alright then, my lady Sol. Do I now have permission to access this confidential information?”

“Yes.” She replied simply before climbing on the bed and hopping across my torso. Then, she sat beside my left shoulder, eager to tell me something of _great_ importance.

“Lord Haurchefant of House Greystone, you have my permission to read this letter from mama.”

“A letter from _her_?”

Tournesol--er, Sol nods with a happy humm. “I found it in Moggy’s pom yesterday.”

 

She showed me the parchment towards my face that it almost hit my nose. _The nose!_ Now that she was near, her small nose resembled a similar hook to mine. Not only was she undeniably eloquent and capable of multiple sentences per second, she resembled me in every way.

 

_Oh Halone, she really is mine, isn’t she?_

 

I took the parchment and analyzed it carefully. While a part of me strongly wished that it was authentic, and _at last_ I have word from the love of my life, I was also a skeptical. How credible can a supposed important missive be if it was found stuck in a child’s doll?

I remember my stepmother employing the same tactics. She faked my mother’s hand to keep me quiet - to make me believe that she was alive and well when in fact she had succumbed to disease not long before. I kept silently reading the sentences over and over - making sure that it was the Warrior of Light’s hand and no one else. I can’t let anyone deceive my little girl - even if it only meant to give her hope, false hope.

“I wanted to read it but mama’s handwriting is tricky.” With her tiny fingers she pointed out letters that were written in a different manner. I hummed in agreement.

I admit I had difficulty reading my beloved’s letters when we first started courting. The Warrior of Light was wont to adding a few dots and and curves to certain letters. It took some time to get used to but I think I can manage. With another scan I confirmed that all known eccentricities in her writing was present.

“It’s authentic.” I sighed in relief.

Sol looked at me expectantly, excited for tidings from afar. How the letter found its way in Moggy’s pom, I’ll find out later. The king and I will have some serious discussions later.

“Ready, my lady?”

“Ready, Sol?” She corrected with a sheepish grin.

“Oh you!” I gasped as I messed up her hair. “Serves me right for being cheeky! Now then, let us read this letter...”

 

I took a deep breath.

 

_“Dearest Sol,_

_Pray forgive mama for being away for so long. Know that I love you and miss you very much._

_Our friends at Doma need help to restore their city from ruin. War takes many things - many beloved people away. War took papa from us. Please continue praying so he wakes up._

_Anyways, I have a present for you. I hope you’ve been good! Remember to always say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, listen to A'oyagi and don't bother Bataar and Emmanellain in their work. Remind Artoirel to sleep whenever he can and Grandpa to take his medicine._

_I will see you in a fortnight._

_With love,_

_Mama”_

 

A fortnight? I checked the date on the letter. It was written exactly 12 days ago. She’s coming home in two days! At last, a tangible known date I could look forward to! Praise Halone!

Oh, I could barely contain my excitement, my anticipation, my tears. I tried to keep quiet but I ended up crying out of relief. _She’s safe. She’s coming home_. I grit my teeth as I smiled - struggling to keep my composure.

“Papa? Does it hurt anywhere? Did I hurt you?”

“No...no, you’ve done nothing wrong, sweet child.”

She crawled beside me and gave me a hug. Her soft cheeks were like clouds against mine. Alas my eyes refused to cooperate and I cradled Sol in my arms. _My little girl_ \-  the only evidence that my lover has indeed loved me so that she carried our child in her womb as she waited for my return. I knew the moment I saw her that she was mine but out of fear I did not want it to be true.

How dare I wish for such a thing? How could I possibly deserve her?

As if the gods added salt to my wounds, Sol rubbed my back with little reach she could. Her small hands were soft and comforting. I wanted to hug her tighter but restrained not to. Instead I started humming a tune.

I can’t remember the words anymore, but the melody was still there. Mother used to sing me to sleep every night. I only wished I wrote the words down. If there was any way I could make up for everything - for my absence, I wish I could remember the words for Sol.

As I calmed down I continued humming and prayed to the Twelve:

Please, let me remember the words.

 

_**Please.** _


	11. Day Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been three days since Haurchefant woke up and things just kept piling up.

This morning was special, albeit surreal. Buried underneath a plush mountain of stuffed animals, I blinked myself to reality. With my sleeping child beside me, I cannot help but feel blessed by the Twelve and a little perturbed. I was afraid, aye. I know naught about being a father, nor did I know anything about my little girl.

She had been wary of me for the past two days. It was only natural, I suppose. To her, I might've been a lifeless doll for three years. I can only guess what she felt when she saw me wake. Confusion? Fear? Happiness? Excitement? I don't know.

“What do you think, King Moggy?” I whispered to the moogle doll at the foot of the bed.

Sol made him sit there all night to watch over us as we slept. According to her, King Moggy was king because he defended his kingdom from monsters underneath our beds. ‘ _Kings serve and protect their people,’_ she said. Oh, how the world would be put into order if people in power had the pure heart of a child.

Oh, how I adored her! Without a thought I kissed the top of her head. Her silver hair was soft to the touch. I rested my cheek on top of her crown and watched her sleep. Her long eyelashes reminded me of my own, and her plump, flushed cheeks bounced back from a gentle poke. The rise and fall of her chest made reality sink in every passing second.

I am a father.

Never in my thirty-one years of life did I ever expected or wanted to be a father. Granted, I _did_ ask the Warrior of Light for her hand in marriage. However, our vision of our matrimonial bliss only included us two, forever. She didn’t want a child, she was very clear on the subject. Due to the nature of her work, she knew she could one day disappear - just like her parents did.

 _‘It would be cruel to leave a child like that...wondering what they did wrong for the gods to punish them so,’_ she said.

Mayhaps it was cruel irony that her fears were somewhat realized. Aye, she lives and so do I, but our child was still left wanting.

“I’m here...” I whispered as Sol whimpered in her sleep.

With a few gentle rubs on her back, she calmed down and slept on without a care in the world. Then, there was a familiar knock on my door - father.

“Come in”

Silly as it may seem, father and I made a secret knock. It was a small thing, aye, but I deeply treasured it. Whenever I fell ill, my stepmother would forbid every household servant to aid me - hoping I would slip through the night. As a young boy in his sickbed, father’s knock and visits reminded me that someone still loved me - that I still mattered. I can only hope that I could instill such beautiful feelings of love into my own child someday.

 

As Father entered the room, the grace in his gait faltered and his eyes widened. Every corner of my chambers was filled with Sol’s playthings. Dolls, dollhouses, tea sets for tea parties, shiny trinkets, and an entire mountain of plush on my bed was quite a sight for any visitor.

“Haurchefant?” he whispered.

“...Yes, father?”

“Oh, thank Halone,” he sighed “And here I thought I’ve been walking in circles and entered the wrong chamber.”

“Why would you be walking in circles?”

Father stepped closer to inspect my nest of stuffed animals. Once he saw her, a sigh of relief escaped his lips.

“Oh, thank the Twelve.” He placed a shaking hand on his chest. “She’s here. _She’s safe_. Oh, my senile mind had made me think of the worst.”

“She spent the night here.” I assured him. “She wanted to introduce me to her friends...and to bring me great tidings.”

As realization came to him, father gasped and looked at me with concern. He was speechless and I considered my next move. Everyone had been wary whenever Sol was mentioned. Should I want the full truth, this was my only chance.

“Father,” I called out to him softly. “Why didn’t you tell me? Sol told me that the two of you would visit me every morning. She was present when I woke up, wasn’t she? ”

Father examined me for a moment. His steely blue eyes were hard to read. He was tired and forlorn and I’ve caused all that. What could I possibly do to lessen his burdens?

“I’m sorry,” I continued. “It must have been... _complicated_.”

Father shut his eyes and turned from me. With a heavy sigh he stood in place. The urge to get up and offer him a chair was so great but I was paralyzed. In my anxiety, my mind raced to find the possible reasons of his silence. Was he angry with me?

“Your mother ran away.” Father said finally. “For twelve years I never heard from her. Frail as she was, I assumed she died. Then on Artoirel’s 13th nameday...she turned up with you. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. _I was afraid_.”

I remained silent as father sat down at the foot of my bed. He picked up Moggy and turned to the toy as if he was talking to it instead - as if he couldn’t face me at all.

“I was afraid that you might falter…” He continued. “...Like any man would at the presence of a child he never expected. Halone knows that it was by a miracle that I held my tongue when I first saw you. I feared that you might say something regrettable...to my little sunflower. I didn’t know _how_ to break the news to you. Forgive me.”

“There’s naught to forgive.”

 

We sat in silence for a while.

Father held Moggy on his lap, his calloused hands gently held the moogle’s paws. I was left to contemplate with myself. Father was right. In the past I told him I was content to be a knight and die a knight. I had no plans to further sully our family name by tainting our bloodline with my bastard blood. I was content...truly...until I met her.

"I'm so sorry..." I repeated pleadingly. "I am...I wish I didn't--"

“ _I knew_." Father said finally. "I knew very well..."

He paused to collect his thoughts.

"I had my suspicions when you petitioned for the Warrior of Light's asylum in Ishgard so fervently. The way you spoke about her, the way you looked at her, the support you gave her - it could only be love.”

With another heavy sigh, he finally faced me.

“I’m old, Haurchefant, not blind. I wanted you to be happy. _I did, I still do._ Despite your status I wanted you to find someone.”

Alas, it was my turn to avoid his gaze. Who knew serious talks like these could make me so…helpless?

"I did find someone. I just didn't anticipate how our future would be so... I had hoped for a quiet life with her."

"Did you honestly think you can limit her to a quiet life, Haurchefant? A woman of that capacity cannot be chained."

"I know..."

Father’s brow furrowed as he recalled what I can only guess as painful memories.

“On that fateful day everyone called you a hero. Yet at the back of my mind I questioned the gods _. WHY._ _Why did it have to be you? Why must you be so stubborn?_ I asked you to stay home that day. Do you remember?”

I nodded. “I remember. _I insisted;_ it was my duty.”

“Aye, it was.” Father sniffed, as he dabbed the tears away with a handkerchief. “The pledge of knighthood is easy to say but when you fell - I just couldn’t accept it. Many sleepless nights I wondered: ‘ _if only he loved another woman he would still be with us!’_ What a horrible thought!”

Truthfully, I was lost for words. Father was a carefully spoken man by nature. Underneath every word he breathed laid many others that didn’t fit his discretion. By revealing his feelings, I oddly felt privileged. It took some courage, but I managed to look him in the eye.

“I cannot...I do not blame you.” I declared.

At last father smiled - the weight of his burden lifted at the sound of my voice. I returned that smile with my heartfelt gratitude.

“Thank you, for raising her...for accepting her in your home.”

Father shook his head and chuckled.

“How could I not?” With a gentle hand, he placed Moggy under Sol’s arm and tucked her in. Who knew he would make such a doting grandsire? “She looks just like you.”

“Did she remind you of me as well?” I asked cheekily.

“My little sunflower was ever so loud and well spoken. Of course she reminded me of you! She’s a reader, this one. Had it not for our complicated “loopy-loop” writing, I daresay she might have read every book in the manor.”

“And her mother’s letters.”

With a hum, father looked at me inquisitively. I took the folded parchment from underneath the pillows and showed it to him.

“Ah, yes...We’ve kept correspondence, your Warrior of Light and I.” He said teasingly. “She always sent two letters, one for little sun and one for the grownups.”

I raised an eyebrow. “The grownups?”

“Yes, I call it that so our little lady here won’t pry for its contents.” This time it was father’s turn to hand me a letter. It was still in its envelope albeit the seal already opened.

 

_To Lord Edmondt de Fortemps,_

_Thank you for your unwavering support. Ala Mhigo is now free from Garlean rule and is now slowly adapting a similar government to Ishgard. Have you not championed our cause and supported Ser Aymeric in this endeavor, we would not be as strong._

_I also ask that you forgive me for my tardiness as I write this after arriving in Doma for another matter. Should you indulge us, we would be most grateful for your political and military advice. I am embarrassed to ask this of you, however, I am by no means learned in matters of politics. Should you refuse, I completely understand._

_There is also another matter…_

_With this letter, I’ve included my gift for Sol’s 4th nameday. Please hide it away until the 12th. She wanted it for so long, I’m certain she’ll destroy the wrapping as soon as she learned of it._

_There is also a vial of soothing ointment from Doma. The old men of the rice paddies in Doma pray for your health as soon as they knew of your aching knee. Please apply generously on your joints every morning._

_Lastly, please tell him I love him._

 

_Respectfully,_

_Lady Greystone_

 

“Lady Greystone?” I said doubtfully as I scanned the letter once more. “Is that…?”

 

“It is she.” Father confirmed. “After the war, she visited every moon with gifts that would promote my health. I would thank her and then coldly dismiss her. I was hurt...but she was never to blame. And so I sought atonement and wrote to her - reassuring her that she has a home with us, that she was safe with us.”

Father then clutched his rosary from his coat pocket. I set my eyes on it and wondered what did he prayed for. He said as his fingers inspected each of the rosary beads.

“Then, by the Fury’s grace, I learned everything. One look at her belly and all my suspicions came to be true. Fortunately, she hid it well underneath her robes. No one in Ishgard knew until our little lady was born.”

Tight lipped, I nodded and waited for father to continue.

“She looked me in the eyes when she confessed. That day Ser Aymeric was arrested...you sought me out didn’t you? ‘ _A matter of great importance’_ , you called it..”

“Yes, I do recall...I was about to ask for your blessing.”

Father leaned on his cane and gripped it tightly.

“Sometimes, I blamed the gods.” He grimaced as he spoke every word. “Sometimes, I blamed her...yet I forget the true devils in our midst! It shamed me to my core. In my feeble attempt to make amends I insisted that she and the child take the Fortemps name. Alas, she refused and insisted they take yours.”

“Take mine?” I could not believe what I was hearing. My love and I agreed to take hers. “Why?”

“Her reason?”

Father looked at me with the brightest smile he could muster. Tears began to form at the corner of his eyes and he fought them away as his mouth quivered.

“ _Greystone is a heroic name. We will have no other.’_ Oh, my son...I couldn’t have agreed more.”

I closed my eyes as I fought back the tears that kept coming. The gods are strange for devising us mortals to cry out of sheer joy! I kept myself as quiet as I could to prevent waking Sol, alas she woke.

“Does your booboo hurt, papa?” Was the first thing she said. What an altruistic angel!

I shook my head, incapable to utter a word.

“Papa’s just happy, little sun.” Father answered for me. “Sometimes, people cry when they’re very happy. Now come, A’oyagi’s been looking all over for you. It’s time for your bath.”

Sol turned to me, concerned. “Will you be alright, papa?”

“Y-yes.” I willed out a word. “Go on, I’ll join you for breakfast.”

With a cheerful ‘alright’, my little girl jumped off the bed and took her grandfather’s fingers as they walked outside my chamber together. She matched his pace perfectly, thoughtfully. It was my honor to be her father.

“Oh, and before I forget...” Father said at the door. “I love you.”

“I...uh...”

“She wrote me to tell you, remember? But...I thought I should also remind you.”

Then, father gave the door that familiar knock. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I wiped away my tears.

“I love you too.”

 

And so I was finally content to wait here, patiently, as Lord Greystone should.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What drew me close to Haurchefant was how honest he was with his feelings. Such behavior could only be fostered by good parenting :Y Ingame Lord Edmondt had tact and was careful with his words, but he was also honest with his feelings whenever necessary. I hope I did him justice in this fic as he is a fantastic male role model.


	12. Token of Gratitude (Artwork)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little something for my readers.  
> Thank you for staying with me so far!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be taking a short break from writing as I need to catch up on my work. Also, I have a pajama party to host this weekend, woo!  
> See you in the next chapter uvu
> 
> Until then!


	13. As Father and Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Count Edmondt's POV**
> 
> An entry from Lord Edmondt de Fortemps’ journal written in his hand after the Dragonsong War.  
> This is an experimental piece. Feel free to skip this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger Warning:**  
>  Chapter contains scenes of attempted suicide and abortion.  
> Please proceed responsibly. If you are unable to cope with such things but wish to find out what happens in this chapter, leave a comment and I'll give you a safe summary.  
> 

Tonight the greatwyrm, Nidhogg, and his brood assaulted Ishgard. Tonight many proud nobles cowered behind their walls. Tonight Ishgard witnessed the awesome strength and power of the woman I silently scorned. Tonight, I was shamed and left forlorn.

After the victory of man, the city rejoiced and welcomed their heroes. Artoirel and Emmanellain were eager to offer their congratulations. I on the other hand, sought solace in the quiet courtyard outside the manor.

Alone, I gazed upon the mountain ranges that lined Ishgard’s horizons. The stars were ever boastful that night. It’s as if the heavens too, celebrate Ishgard’s freedom from the wrath of the vengeful Nidhogg. Indeed, as my countrymen’s cheers grew louder, my heart grew heavier.

Was my son’s life the price of freedom, of peace?

He fought for what he believed in and he protected the hero of Ishgard from harm. Any father would be proud, _any_. Yet I could not help but feel bitter when I’ve learnt of his fate. I felt helpless, useless; I failed to protect my little boy. All I could do that day was ask him to stay home, but his good heart did not yield to my plea.

When the chirurgeons announced that my son would survive, I oddly felt blank. They gave credit to the Warrior of Light’s healing magic that she fervently administered from the Vault to the nearest infirmary.

She was like a woman possessed, they said. Half a dozen men had to pry her away from him before she ran out of strength. The head chirurgeon noted that the Warrior of Light was no master conjurer to begin with - an apprentice at most; and that she was giving my son her own aether to sustain him. Had they failed to stop her, it would have been fatal.

 

_She loved him._

 

Oh, Halone, _she loved him._ I should be joyful, thankful, and triumphant even. That my son would have the affection of our realm’s mightiest hero…it was absurd to feel this way! Still, I kept the great tidings of his survival from her. Only the gods knew why. It was not logical for me to do so – nay, it was cruel.

It must have driven her mad.

Despite the madness she must have endured, she managed to carry on at the wake of my son’s downfall and slay the mighty Nidhogg. I must admit I was not short of envious.

I closed my eyes for a few moments. Out in the cold courtyard I petitioned to the Twelve for a chance to make amends. I love my son – I do! And I’ve kept his only happiness filled with grief. If there were any way to fix it all, I would do it. If the gods saw it fit to strike me down for my bitterness then so be it!

 

“Count Edmondt?” I remembered her calling out to me.

My prayers were answered immediately. There, the Warrior of Light stood, precariously near the edge of the unprotected segment of the banisters. Many forlorn souls have thrown themselves to the abyss. I prayed she was not thinking the same.

“My child,” I said meekly – doubtful if I was worthy to even address her as such. “Come into the manor where it is warm.”

She took a step towards me but still remained at the edge. Her hands folded protectively over her middle. Her eyes glistened in the dark as she blinked a few times. Did the snow get into her eyes or..?

“My lord, I was about to visit you. Pray forgive me for my delay.”

I shook my head and smiled gently. I took a step forward and my heart skipped when she took a step back. One wrong move and…

“There’s naught to forgive, child. Now come,” I said as I stretched out my hand to her. “Firmien had prepared a feast for your arrival.”

She took a moment to consider my offer and then took my hand as I lead her inside. It was a strange night, truly. We had not anticipated the attack, more so the swift victory. The servants ran within the walls of the manor to prepare their honored guest’s homecoming meal. Indeed the manor teemed with life, but my guest and I remained silent.

Dinner was brief. Only Master Alphinaud, Mistress Tataru, and my sons conversed. I observed from the head of the table and watched the Warrior of Light eat her fill as quietly as she could. Beside her was a vacant chair. Had Haurchefant been present at dinner, she would have been smiling - laughing at his endless jests.

Alas he was not and so she continued on in silence. And so did I.

After dinner, Lady Lucia of the temple knights have called upon our wards. She brought great tidings about Ser Estinien’s recovery and bid everyone to come visit him at the Congregation when we are able. Young Alphinaud was enthusiastic but it was too late in the night. I reminded them that even heroes needed rest and that was shall visit Ser Estinien in the morning.

Alphinaud turned to the Warrior of Light to support his enthusiasm but she shook her head.

“I agree with Count Edmondt; we need rest. Besides, Ser Estinien scowls too much to be admitted into heaven so quickly. He won’t die just yet.”

Alphinaud let out a nervous chuckle. “Yes, yes of course...”

Then she addressed all of us, “Forgive me, my lords, miss Lucia. I wish to retire for the night.”

“Let us not keep you then,” I smiled at her.

Without another word she turned on her heel and made way for the guest rooms. I admit I was relieved to have her out of my sight. I know I prayed to make amends but my own pettiness made it difficult. I admired her, truly. She was my son’s dearest friend and I was glad she made him happy. I would have championed their relationship. ...I suppose, I think, I would have.

 

I now lay awake tonight and continue this again at four bells past midnight.

Sleep had completely escaped me completely and I have resolved to take a quick stroll outside. Perhaps the cold will remind my old body that a warm bed is where I should be.

As I stepped outside the manor with nothing but a fur coat over my bedclothes I heard a whimper in the night. I turned to the source and I saw her fiery red locks illuminated by the lamp post nearby. There, the Warrior of Light sat at the bannister, hunched over as she hugged her middle.

Was she struck there? Was she not feeling well the entire night? Why did she not request for a chirurgeon? Ah...she’s just like my son - thinking they can handle everything by themselves!

“Are you hurt?” I called out to her. “I will call for a chirurgeon.”

“Lord Edmondt!” She exclaimed. “Forgive me, did I wake you?”

“No, of course not, child,” I said softly as I inched towards her. She sat on the railings, a more worrisome sight than earlier. “More importantly, why are you out here in the cold?”

She turned away from me and raised her head to the sky.

“I needed some time to think…There will be big decisions to make soon.”

“Indeed, Ishgard is in your debt.”

“I believe not, my lord.” She sighed, her breath a puff of smoke in the cold. “Ishgard shielded me from those that want me dead. It was I whom was indebted to your country.”

“Very well, I wouldn’t argue matter of debts to an Ul’dahn.” I chuckled slightly. “Still, whatever it is that ails you…I am glad to give you my aid.”

“I’m fine, truly. I just need _rest_.”

I took a few paces forward with my hand still stretched out to her.

“Then, pray use our gazebo where you can rest with ease. The railings are not safe.”

“I love the view of the mountains here, my lord. Please, _I wish to be alone_.”

“It’s dangerous…” I reached for her shoulder to pull her from the railings but stopped when I saw a familiar vial she held. “Is that... poison?”

Haurchefant’s mother possessed a similar vial before. Oh gods…

“Whatever it is you’re thinking of doing, I beseech you…” I whispered. “Please don’t make such hasty decisions.”

She tucked the vial out of my sight. She turned to me with tear stained eyes and her voice faltered.

“My lord, I’ve sinned greatly against your House. Please forgive me.”

It was late into the night and the lamplight could only do so much. Still, the tears that fell down her face were evident; each drop had proclaimed me guilty. My lies have driven her into a corner.

“You have been a most gracious host.” She continued. “You provided me asylum – your hearth and home. I did not wish to bring you shame.”

 

_I’ve heard this talk before._

 

“I don’t understand, child. Whatever it was, you are forgiven. _Please take my hand_.”

“Your son died because of me… and now…now I…please allow me to make amends in peace.”

It all came back to me.

The vial was no ordinary poison – it will not kill its user. It had another target. Had I not stopped Haurchefant’s mother at that time…

“Let’s talk about this…you have nothing to fear, my child. I swear it to the Twelve. Come inside and we’ll sort this out, I promise you.”

Oh, how cruel fate is! Why must I be helpless with nothing but endless pleading at my disposal? Money, power, influence – these things are all meaningless when you’re confronted with matters of mortality before your eyes.

“It is no small matter, my lord. The High Houses will not relent when they learn of my mistake.” Her arms laced over her entire middle as she refused to face me anymore, she was pregnant, no doubt.

“Let the High Houses have their fill!” I scoffed. “How honorable they must be to feast upon the misfortunes of others. _You are my ward_ , my honored guest, and my son’s dearest friend. I will not have you make a decision you might regret!”

“I’m carrying his child.” She hissed. “Perhaps I don’t give a damn about your name or your honor. Perhaps I’m only justifying my actions. _But know this Lord Edmondt_ –I cannot look at this baby and not feel like I’ve lost everything. If the gods won’t allow me to die then…who will they sacrifice next to keep me alive? My child? I can’t … _I can’t have that_.”

Wide eyes looked at me as if she had woken from a nightmare that tortured her endlessly night after night. My lies, my deceit, my bitterness had done all this. Had I told her the truth before, perhaps she would have not been driven this far.

“Please…do not do this.” I begged. If I wished to make amends, I must now speak truth. “He lives. He has not woken up yet but--”

“Do not lie to me, my lord. The healers told me he was lost!”

_Under my command, yes._

“They were not certain at the time, he was in critical condition. I also...did not know the full extent of his condition until recently.” I lied.

"I saw him at the end of the battle. An _apparition_ , my lord. I saw him. He's dead. Don't lie to me!"

"I was not there to make conclusions for you - but believe me when I say that he lives. _He lives._ "

She examined me from head to toe – looking for any signs of insincerity. After all that’s happened to her, I cannot blame her for second guessing everyone else’s intentions. After my deceit and the toll of tonight's battle, I cannot fault her for doubting every word I said. She also claimed to have seen Haurchefant's apparition. My gods, I have driven her mad.

“You are certain?” She said finally.

I nodded, hand still outstretched. “He might not walk again but he draws breath tonight. Of that I am certain.”

“He lives.” I repeated with more conviction. “Take my hand and return to him. He needs you.”

“You…don’t disapprove?”

“Aye. _I’m his father._ I knew him before you did and believe me when I say that I cannot possibly hope for a better woman in his life. I have _seen_ the change when he met you. I have seen the sparkle in his eyes the day I agreed to grant you asylum. He’s as loving as he is stubborn, he won’t ever leave you bereft! I daresay he would’ve made you laugh at his deathbed.”

“He asked me to smile…”

“No jests? No laughs? Then, I believe his work is yet to be done! Come, my child, please. I’ll take you to him.”

She sat there motionless, speechless. I took a risk and stepped carefully towards her and put an arm around her. She flinched at my touch.

“You’re alright, you’re safe now.”

With one hand I held hers and slowly lead her to the manor. Her feet shuffled, and her hand shook in mine. As she shivered from the cold, I was reminded that the mighty Warrior of Light was a mortal woman – capable of grief and sorrow. I was a fool to think that I was alone in my plight, that I was the only one hurting.

 

As we walked towards my son’s chambers, I had all the time in the world to apologize – but I did not. Was it pride? Was it self-righteousness? I am now kept awake wondering why as I write this entry.

She did not ask me why I kept it from her. She did not accuse me of anything. Nay, she was silent as was her wont and focused on one thing – to see him.

When we reached my son’s chambers, the proud hero we knew to be unbreakable fell on her knees and wept beside him. Was it a privilege to see such a sight? I did not know. Every whimper, every labored breath she took was salt to my wounds.

How could I have scorned such a child? Such love was not found easy in the world – more so Ishgard. I prayed that my other sons would be as lucky – be it highborn or lowborn, Ishgardian or not. I will support them as any father should.

“Thank you, Lord Edmondt.” she said, her voice broken and coarse. “I...I cannot tell you how much...please forgive me for my behavior earlier. Please...don’t tell anyone.”

I held out my hand and asked for the vial. She placed it on my palm and I threw it into the flames of the hearth.

“There is nothing to forgive, sweet child. The burdens you bear are far too great.” I said confidently - avoiding any hint of guilt for mine own mistakes. “Rest assured that I saw nothing tonight.”

I gently closed the door and left them be. I kept telling myself that tonight was not the right time to beg forgiveness. Tonight she needed to be with him. Tonight she needed to see him and feel the breath in his chest. Tonight the gods have granted me clemency and who was I to deny their chosen her only comfort.

 

Perhaps tomorrow we can talk better. Perhaps tomorrow we can start anew – as father and daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone in this damn fic is flawed af!  
> This chapter was difficult to write but...I wanted to expand on Edmondt and the WOL's relationship.  
> Also you might've noticed that my WOL is the quiet before the storm kind of person. She's a _bit_ like the game's WOL... selfless, accommodating, gives way too much until there's nothing left :V I'm glad SB game!WOL is voicing out their opinions little by little tho. It takes time I guess (shrugs)
> 
> This is an experimental piece. Feel free to skip this.  
> I may or may not delete this. This is a telling chapter, not showing. And...yeah, I just wanted to test this out.


	14. As Father and Daughter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Count Edmondt's POV**
> 
>  
> 
> Continuation of Lord Edmondt and the Warrior of Light's time after the Final Steps of Faith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im not sure if I did a good job with the previous chapter but I'm quite happy with this one!

It was midday when I returned to Haurchefant’s chamber. A young kitchen girl trailed behind me. She carried a tray of food and drink – my attempt at comfort and reconcilation. The Warrior of Light settled on a chair beside my son’s bed. It wasn’t the most comfortable position but the scene certainly appeared to be nothing more than just a worried friend. I silently applaud her mastery of discretion.

“You need to eat something, my child.” I beckoned to her. She looked at me in silent regard. Her eyes scanned me for a moment, as if deducing if it was indeed reality before her.

“I’m not hungry…my lord.” she said weakly.

“Even so, you need to keep your strength up. You’re not just caring for yourself anymore.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. Quickly I turned to the servant girl and dismissed her. As soon as she left and closed the door I turned back to my son’s lover.

“Tell me you’re not speaking of this.” I hissed. “I’ve thrown that vial to the flames.”

“Aye, you did, my lord. But I also procured my own potions. I trained in Ul’dah under a master alchemist before…”

As she wallowed in self-pity, I sighed and kneeled in front of her. It’s as if I was looking at mine own reflection – reminding me that I was never alone in my grief. I stared right into her eyes, filled with conviction.

“Look…we…we are only mere mortals. We fall, we fail, and we… _get hurt._ But we are more than our downfalls. Just look at your achievements: Slayer of Primals, Defender of Eorzea, Hero of Ishgard; your tenacity knows no bounds!”

She remained silent, her eyes searched mine for meaning.

“Tell me child, you pledged your allegiance to the Immortal Flames, did you not? What are their words?”

“What do you--”

“--What are their words?”

“…By fire we are reborn?”

“ **By fire we are reborn!** ” I roared as I shook both of her knees. “ _This_ is your fire! This infernal blaze is but a passing phase. And I’m privileged to witness your eventual rebirth. Fury be praised, I am not worthy of such splendor!”

Finally she yielded to my enthusiasm and let herself smile. Her eyes closed tight as her face lit up with a wide grin. There I finally understood why my son had fallen for her. Everything about her was honest and sincere; she radiated everything she felt. And right now it was amusement. She was beautiful.

“You support me overmuch, Count Edmondt. I’m grateful… _I think._ I should be but I feel…It’s not too late to send me away, my lord. Thank you…” She turned to Haurchefant – peacefully sleeping the moments away. “It’s good to see him.”

“Where will you go?”

“Perhaps, back to Mor Dhona.”

“What will you do?”

“Maybe the same things…”

“And the child?”

“.........I don’t know.”

“Are you to remain a broken blade? Is there no flame hot enough to reforge you?”

Her eyes darted towards me, no doubt recognizing the words. Such a strong statement only came from my bosom friend, Ser Firmien. My sons trained under him and such words of encouragement became the words Haurchefant lived by. He was a tenacious boy – he would often repeat the words to himself whenever trouble came. I suppose now was the best time to say it.

“He would want you to carry on…” I continued “In the best way you can. Do what you must if it will give you peace, but I urge you – stay. Stay and rest; make no decisions now and allow yourself this respite. Stay and allow me…to make amends.”

“…Amends?”

“May I speak truth, my lady?” I remained kneeled in front of her. It was only appropriate.

She nodded and I readied myself.

“Ever since that day, I’ve scorned you. I know full well it was not your fault. I know full well that my son would have saved you a million times if he had the chance a million times. And yet out of my sorrow, I’ve become cruel. I commanded the chirurgeons to speak false; I hid his survival from you. For that…I am unworthy to be even in your presence. Forgive me, my child.”

She was speechless and turned her gaze away from me. I remained on the floor, despite how my knees started to burn.

This is how it should be.

“I do not blame you, my lord.” She whispered. “I’ve come to hate myself as well…for quite some time now. There are countless others that died in my battles, and friends were lost so I may continue on. Not a day pass by that I don’t blame my incompetence for what happened…”

She then turned to me and I looked at sorrow dead in the eyes. “…There is naught to forgive, my lord. You are within your right…to be angry, to be sad, for what I’ve done to your son.”

I shook my head, " _You_ also have the right to be angry, to be sad, to feel hopeless. But I urge you to look at the reality before you and know all hope is not lost! My son lives, and Halone knows he will continue to live for you. As soon as he wake up, he will seek you, he will love you, and forever stay by your side...as his wont.”

I rummaged through my coat and found a letter. I placed it on her lap.

“I found this on his desk the day Mistress Tataru and Master Alphinaud were taken by the Inquisition. I believe he meant to give it to you as his support but decided such words were no match for his own chocobo!”

She chuckled softly.

 _Good._ _Excellent._ I should recount the good times, for both of our sakes.

“My ears rang the entire day, mind you.” I continued now with more enthusiasm. “He cheered for you as you were life itself. Instead of the match, I watched him. He jumped and shouted you praises endlessly as if you were Halone herself. I didn’t have the heart to tell him to settle down.”

By the end of my tale, she was smiling softly as she traced the words on the letter carefully. Her eyes didn’t seem to be reading them – she was glad to just have a piece of his consciousness with her. As if the letter was his voice that she longed to hear.

“I forgive you, Count Edmont. Thank you for granting me this peace.” She said softly. “Rest assured I will think about… _this_.”

“Very well.” I sighed contentedly as I got up. “Pray eat something as well. I will have Firmien bring in another pillow for you…and move Haurchefant a bit to the side.”

“M-My lord? What-what ever for?” She flustered.

“Given the circumstances, it is fact that you’ve shared a bed before. I will _not_ have a pregnant woman spending the night on a chair – not in my house, not for as long as I live!”

“…I see. Thank you, Count Edmondt.”

“No…thank _you_ , my child.”

I left her again and made my way to my study. This time, I took breath with nary a care as I felt like a new man – forgiven and carrying on to what comes next. Fury be praised, I’ve never hoped for such a peaceful outcome! I expected her to burst in anger, to curse me, to demand retribution. Alas, she was obviously too tired to do so. Perhaps, by the Fury’s grace – my son’s woman was wont to be well-mannered to begin with. How blessed he is!

I spent the day smiling to myself – at peace, at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >> This chapter shows that Lord Edmont lied to Haurchefant when he said he turned the WOL away multiple times after the war and that she only came to him to ask for help when her belly grew too big to hide.
> 
> I WONDER WHY.


	15. Carrots and Carats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haurchefant has a new job.  
> Back to H POV!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might need to read the previous chapter to fully enjoy this one...

Akin to many things in life, each step ahead got a little easier. I limped towards the dining hall with nary a grumble and my chirurgeon noticed immediately.

“You slept well, I see.”

I hummed happily as an answer and continued on.

Talking with father this morning improved my mood tremendously that there was a skip in my step. Still, I had to make amends to the man. The horrors he must’ve gone through to keep our family afloat during my absence certainly took a toll on him.

There’s also that matter with Emmanellain and the three hundred thousand gil. Only Halone knew where and how we could get such a sum. And last but not the least, I must get to know and raise my own child. She’s a charming little thing but, I do hope she won’t turn out to be like Artoirel. She already perfected the art of having her nose in the air.

Ah…

So many things to do… I’ll have to address one trouble at a time. Just like the good old days...

“Please, my lady. You must eat your vegetables!”

“No!”

“But carrots are good for you...”

“No!”

I cleared my throat as I entered the dining hall. Sol’s eyes widened, and quickly turned away from me to hide her ill behavior. Her Miqo’te maid stood up to greet me.

“Good morning, my lord.”

“Good morning. Is something the matter?”

“My lady...” The maid hesitated for a moment and looked at her young charge. Sol refused to face any of us and remained silent.

“She refuses to eat your bland cooking,” Bataar deadpanned. “The little lady will grow frail with your Doman fare.”

“She needs vegetables, _sir_.” The maid replied as politely as she could.

“Indeed. Now if only you knew how to use some salt and a few herbs instead of steaming it to a soggy mess, it might actually pass as a dish.”

The Miqo’te woman held her tongue and stared at the floor in defeat. Her lips tightened as she held her fingers together, praying that the morning would be over. Her lips parted slightly - wishing to retaliate but in the end she thought it futile and remained silent.

“Bataar, that’s enough.” I sighed. “Apologize for your behavior.”

_“Apologize?”_

“Thank you for your concern with Sol’s health,”I smiled at him. “However, you mustn’t berate your colleagues so harshly - it will not solve anything. If you disagree with her, then help her improve her bland cooking. Seeing as you are an _expert_ in such matters...”

Bataar was shocked. With his mouth slightly gaped, he tried to make sense of my command. It’s an amusing and common sight. Oftentimes, new recruits would try to disrespect their female counterparts in Camp Dragonhead. Such arrogance could lead to death on the battlefield. As commander, I suffered no such behavior.

“Forgive me...Miss A’oyagi.” Bataar apologized hesitantly. “I am no expert but...your cooking _is_ bland.”

“Bataar!”

“I will not speak false, my lord!”

I sighed and placed my hands on my hips. I looked at the back of Sol’s head. She remains firm with her convictions: _no carrots_.

“Sol...”

“No!”

“You need them for your eyes.” I reasoned, “Carrots will help you read better.”

“If people stop writing in loopy-loops, _then_ I can read better!”

Defeated, I sat down beside her and took a carrot from her plate. Bataar was right, it was overcooked and soggy. I fought back a grimace and looked at Sol’s nursemaid. She looked at me with concern - ready to accept another round of insults.

“I recently found out that Ser Aymeric started a vocational cooking program. Shall we attend a class together?” She smiled in agreement and I turned to Bataar. “Excellent! _All three of us_ would benefit from such endeavour.”

“Count me in,” said another voice.

All eyes went to the new arrival, my dear brother, Emmanellain. What in Thal’s balls is he doing here?!

“Emmanellain! What a pleasant surprise.”

“Brother, it's good to see you!” He cheered. “I’ve always wondered what made everyone at Camp Dragonhead adore you so. I never expected that I would witness your methods first-hand!”

“Being pleasant?” I grinned.

“But I’m always pleasant!” Emmanellain dropped onto a chair and folded his arms. “I’ve been yearning to hold a banquet for years but Yaelle is impossible to convince.”

“A banquet will cost us quite a _sum_ , brother.” I said pointedly as I sat.

“Indeed, that is why I seek your counsel.”

I turned to Sol - still turned away, still undefeated. I could feel Emmanellain’s eyes on me as I spoke to her.

“You win today, my lady. No carrots.”

Sol turned to face me slightly - doubting my words. She narrowed her eyes before extending her pinkie finger towards me.

“Pinkie promise?”

“Pinkie promise,” I wrapped my finger around hers. “Now run along, I’ll read with you later.”

Content, she smiled and hopped off her chair. As she landed, she waved a finger in the air and cheerfully announced:

“To arithmetic lessons!”

Meanwhile Bataar served my breakfast while another manservant placed a less medically enhanced plate in front of Emmanellain. I signaled Bataar to leave us alone for a moment and he promptly left the dining room. It was just me and Emmanellain.

“You seem to be...adjusting well,” He said.

“If you meant adjusting to the life of a rich cripple, it’s not that difficult. I have a beautiful walking cane and I daresay it makes me look extremely important!”

“Ha! You look good with it too. But that’s not what I meant...”

“Well what is it?”

“...The little lady...”

“If you meant fatherhood, then yes: _I know_ and I’m adjusting to the best of my ability. **_I have no idea what I’m doing_** but I’m not alone in this! Just like you...you’re not alone in your plight. How can I help?”

Emmanellain folded his hands on top of the table and leaned forward. Dark circles have formed around his eyes. I never thought I’d see the day!

“I need your support. When I speak to father about _this_...I need you to be there.”

“Your plan is to tell the truth?”

“Aye.”

I sat back, amazed. Emmanellain took it as a chance to continue his appeal.

“After much deliberation with my officers, I’ve come to see the root of my errors. I was afraid to ask for help. Because of my cowardice the problem grew beyond my control.”

I nodded, telling him to go on.

“I’m aware that three hundred thousand is no pocket change - I _will_ earn it back. I just don’t want them to take any more of our people, _your people_.”

I observed Emmanellain for a moment and then smiled.

“Very well, brother. I cannot abandon you in your time of need! I shall call for father after breakfast and we can proceed--”

“--No, perhaps...after midday? We have mass, after all.”

“Mass? By the Fury! I’ve not kept track of the days. Is it Sunday already?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday. Father only wished to hold mass a day before special occasions.”

“And what special occasion is that, pray tell?”

“The little lady’s 4th name day of course! And here you said you’ve adjusted. Father said they’ve planned a special ceremony to celebrate...that is before you woke up. Mayhap he’d like to seek Halone’s wisdom on the matter.”

“I see...” I paused briefly. Never in my years did plans change because of me. I’ve never been included in special occasions to begin with. “Rest assured you have my support when you talk to father.”

“I’m grateful.” Emmanellain beamed. “Shall we start? The food will get cold.”

* * *

 

Mass was odd.

It was held within Saint Reymanaud’s Cathedral and I was at the front pews with my family.

In front.

 _With my family_.

As if that wasn’t enough of an anomaly, an empty seat was provided beside me. It was customary to leave a seat available for duty-bound family members. I found it odd since Emmanellain was in attendance and we did not have immediate relatives nearby for father to make such accommodations.

“Who’s that for?” I whispered to Emmanellain whom was seated on my right.

“Oh, didn’t father tell you?”

I shook my head.

“Your Warrior of Light defected to the most powerful god in the realm! A wise but absurdly late decision really. She now walks in the Halonic faith, Fury be praised!”

“Why what? How...what about…?”

“Sunny is named under the Fury as well, _hence the mass_. You need to keep up, big brother--”

“--Hush, both of you!” Artoirel hissed as he turned from his seat in front of us. “It’s unbecoming - chatting away like old women.”

“Apologies, dear brother,” Emmanellain whispered back. “We shan't do it again.”

“You shan't.”

Emmanellain bit his lip, used his eyes to point at Artoirel, and promptly rolled them to express his disagreement. He then proceeded to morph his face to look like Artoirel and silently mocked our brother as he mouthed the words he just said. I chuckled and lightly hit his arm to stop his mocking charade. I looked around, embarrassed of our behaviour.

That’s when I took notice of Ser Aymeric. He was seated on the opposite side by himself. He greeted me briefly with a reserved wave before pointing out something near me.

I turned to look.

Lo and behold our merrymaking immediately ceased when father’s blaring nostrils greeted mine eyes. He did not scold us for the prominent presence of his nasal caverns was enough to express his disappointment for our lack of decorum. We quickly straightened up and gave the priest our full attention.

The priest in turn looked at us sternly with one eyebrow praising Halone and the other condemning our behavior to the deepest pit of all twelve hells. I raised my hands apologetically and waited for him to proceed. He gave me an approving nod and raised his nose to the air.

“Today we honor House Fortemps’ youngest member. Tomorrow she will be blessed with another year in life as she now outgrows her crib. The little lady has grown health in mind, body, and soul. Halone be praised!”

“Halone be praised.” We answered in unison.

“Halone, mover of glaciers!”

“Halone, mover of fates.”

“Halone, bless our warriors!”

“Halone, judge our sinners.”

“Halone, guardian of the righteous!”

“May the innocent be protected by her Fury.”

After another round of praise, the clergyman retreated to the altar and beckoned to Artoirel.

“May the head of the house please come forward?”

Artoirel stood promptly and made his way to the altar. He carried a small ornate box and placed it in the priest’s hands. The priest then raised the box above his head and said:

“Before the mighty Fury, House Fortemps make their appeal. Hear us, oh mover of glaciers! They seek thy wisdom and thy grace that Lady Tournesol Greystone may walk with you in strength, courage, honor, and dignity. We ask the Fury for her guidance that the young lady fulfill her duties for her house and her country. Of the Sky, From the Sky, For the Sky!”

“Of the Sky, From the Sky, For the Sky!”

My family repeated Ishgard’s words with such vigor. I would have too but I mouthed the words instead as I heard the name Greystone. I was not certain if I should be horrified or amazed. Never had a Greystone undergo such a ceremony. Such eccentricity is not tolerated by the Holy See - and we’re in Saint Reymanaud’s Cathedral, _of all places!_

Then I felt a tug on my sleeve.

Sol smiled at me from her seat in front of me. She knelt on the pew and with a cheeky grin she pointed to herself as if to brag that the priest was talking about her. I smiled back and gave her a gentle pat on the head.

“May the Lady Tournesol Greystone step forward?” said the priest.

“Oh!” She turned to the priest and hopped out of her seat. “Can Papa come as well?”

I shook my head fervently as I froze on the spot. Never had a Greystone stepped on Halone’s altar in _this_ cathedral - or any cathedral for that matter. Perhaps my daughter can prance up there with no qualms but not I!

“Absolutely,” said the priest.

 ** _Absolutely?!_** He cannot be serious.

I looked at Emmanellain and father. They urged me to come forward but I remained glued to the pew.

“It is the father’s duty to bestow upon the gift of their house. Pray come forward, Lord Haurchefant. Let us not keep the Fury’s grace waiting.”

Artoirel then appeared beside me at the side of the empty seat. He extended his hand towards me. I looked upon his visage and he had the gentlest smile I have seen from him since I woke.

“Come brother, it is _your_ honor to do this.”

I would protest but I failed to find the words. I took his hand and with one smooth movement he swung my arm around his shoulder. Fortunately we shared the same height and I had no problem being assisted to the altar.

There the priest opened the box and presented me with a carved sapphire brooch. In its center was an ornate flame made by smaller black diamonds – bordered by a river of gold. It was fitted with a black silk ribbon held together with gold plates carved into waves. I’ve never seen such fine jewelry! Aside from the unknown sigil, it was utterly astounding.

The priest told me to take it from the box. I picked up the necklace delicately. The stone was heavy, it must've taken quite a sum to procure such a marvel. As I gazed upon the jewel, I felt a light pat on the back. Ser Aymeric had approached the altar and continued his way to a podium. There, he started reading a piece of parchment waiting for him.

“As head of the House of Lords, I, Aymeric de Borel, hereby anoint Tournesol Greystone _lady_ of House Greystone.”

**_Pardon me?_ **

“All judicial and legal rights, privileges, and duties shall befall on Lord Haurchefant Greystone until Lady Tournesol is sufficiently educated and have come of age.”

**_I will do what?_ **

“It is also within my power to grant the lady a choice of her affiliation. House Greystone is a newborn house; it is only fair that Lady Tournesol and her father, Lord Haurchefant, choose who to champion in parliament. This decision has been approved by the Church and the Parliament: the House of Lords and the House of Commons. May Halone grant you wisdom today, my lord and lady.”

**_We are what?_ **

“May the Lord Haurchefant present House Fortemps’ gift to the lady?” called the priest.

I stood there like a fool. The world spiraled into a haze and I felt like I would fall at any given time. My gut churned and I could feel my breakfast rising to my throat. _Why has no one told me of this?_ I’m severely embarrassed at my own ignorance and my inability to simply do what is asked.

Then, there was another tug on my sleeve.

I looked down.

“Papa?” Blue eyes blinked at me. “My necklace, if you would be so kind.”

“Ah...O-of course, forgive me, love.” I knelt in front of her. “Papa’s just amazed. You have a big girl’s job after all! And I’m...I’m very...”

“Proud of me?” She grins hopefully.

I nod approvingly and kissed her temple. “ _Very proud_.”

I secured the necklace around her neck and she gazed at it curiously. The blue of the sapphire shone boastingly against the rays of sun that trickled into the cathedral. The flame in the middle was bright despite its black jewels. It suited her well; an heirloom precisely made to fit its mistress and no other.

“It’s pretty…” she giggled as she fiddled with the broach. “I promise to do my best!”

The people present all smiled at her approvingly and Artoirel led a chorus of applause. She beckoned me to come closer and whispered in my ear.

“This is where we say the House Words.”

“We have our own words too?” I whispered, half astonished, half amused.

“Mhm. The words are: By fire we are reborn!”

I grinned from ear to ear. ‘By fire we are reborn.’ No doubt, it was my beloved Warrior of Light’s doing. A black flame radiating a blue light is quite a statement. How we can legally use such words when it was Ul’dah’s Immortal Flame’s motto is something I’ll work on later. Now, nothing was more appropriate than such bold words filled with hope.

I carried Sol on my arm, and with Ser Aymeric’s help, I stood proudly as we said our House’s words:

“By fire we are reborn!”

* * *

 

The day proceeded with a mild celebration in the manor. Ser Firmien greeted us with a fruit tart to encourage Sol to continue her studies dutifully instead of complaining that her nameday wasn’t today. After the tart was thoroughly consumed, she happily skipped back to the drawing room where her harpsichord master waited.

Meanwhile, I was wheeled into father’s study with Ser Aymeric and Artoirel to discuss the specifics of House Greystone and how such grandeur had befallen us. I could’ve have walked there, at least, that is what my stubbornness would say. However the events at the cathedral had made me weak in the knees and Ser Aymeric was more than happy to offer his maneuvering chair once again.

“Pray forgive me for failing to notify you, son.” Father said. “We had planned to proceed with the ceremony for moons. We did not anticipate that you would wake days before, and frankly… your return to us had given me so much joy I have forgotten it as well.”

“It was completely understandable, Lord Edmondt.” Ser Aymeric offered his support and then turned to me. “I too had to postpone some paperwork to make sure the maneuvering chair was ready as soon as you were able to get out of the house. I pray I do not offend you once again, my friend. I simply wish to help.”

I raised my hands, “I was sensitive at that time, Ser Aymeric. I did not wish to snarl at you that day. In fact, I feel quite important being wheeled around like this. It’s fun.”

“Well I’m glad you’re having fun,” said Artoirel from father’s desk. Oh right…of course. This was the Count’s study – not father’s study. It was odd to see him seated there but I brushed it off nonetheless and waited for him to continue. “You will be acting lord of House Greystone and I warn you now: the paperwork is endless.”

“Ha! During my career as commander of Camp Dragonhead I’ve slain other beasts of legend. One of them is the dreaded Deadline Is Tomorrow Report!”

The room roared into laughter as all men present knew of the foul beast. Alas, our merriment was immediately cut short when we heard a scream.

Ser Aymeric quickly lunged for the door and threw it wide open. Artoirel and father followed Ser Aymeric down the hallway and I was left to wheel myself after them. My gods, the carpet was not helping! I asked for independence didn’t I? _Well now I bloody have it!_

Soon I found myself in Sol’s chamber. My heart immediately raced and looked for any signs of a struggle – for any drops of blood. My breathing became erratic as I tried to make sense of the scenario when a hand rested on my shoulder.

“Deep breaths, my friend,” It was Ser Aymeric. “She’s alright…I suppose.”

Despite Ser Aymeric’s advice, my eyes darted around the space. _Where is she?!_ The room was perfectly normal – pillow forts and drawings on the walls. Finally I found her at a corner in the room. My daughter cried and screamed in her grandfather’s arms. The look on father's face was indescribable! I approached them as quickly as I could and she immediately left her grandfather’s arms for my lap.

“Halone’s angry with me!” Sol wailed. “I didn’t eat my carrots!”

“C-Carrots, what about the carrots?”

“I was bad this morning and now the goddess is angry!”

“Hush now,” I said soothingly “I’m sure Halone doesn't mind your avoidance of carrots…”

“No! She hates me! She hates me! She hates me! I’m not meant to be Lady Greystone! Halone thinks I won’t do a good job!” Sol screamed and kicked and I held her in place for dear life. I ran my hand on her back in an attempt to calm her down and continued countering her every word:

“She doesn’t hate you. You’re a good girl. Of course you’ll be an excellent lady--”

“—But my necklace is gone! I put it back in the box! I swear!"

"What?!"

I looked around the room. While I busied myself consoling my little girl, everyone was searching her chambers for the missing jewelry. Artoirel had lifted the mattress and gone through the linens, Ser Aymeric had dived under a mountain of plush toys, and Father checked her desk and drawers. Their faces all said the same thing: it was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get your House heirloom stolen the day you were sanctioned. Get to work, Haurchie!


	16. Heads on a Spike

The entire manor was in chaos. News of the missing necklace had every able body searching. Father eventually called for a meeting at the solar with all the servants lined up in precise rows. Artoirel stood behind father quietly. As each representative of the household servants presented their case, Artoirel observed father quietly - taking note of his every word and deed.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to shoulder such burdens.

“Forgive me, Lord Edmondt,” the cook was first to break silence. “We are _too busy_ in the kitchen to even be near the young lady’s chambers.”

“Aye. We have linens to wash, press, and fold! If there’s anyone with access, it’s the chambermaids.” The head laundry maid said accusingly.

“My Lord!” Gasped the head chambermaid. “We have served for nearly fifty years. We would never betray your trust.”

Father and Ser Firmien exchanged looks. With a quiet nod, Firmien had shared his opinion on the matter. Father closed his eyes thoughtfully and the room held its breath. Meanwhile, I cradled Sol in my lap as she tried her best to calm down. She stifled her sobs so much she got hiccups instead. I gently rubbed her back.

“Are you feeling better, love?”

“No...” Her eyes welled up in tears and she quickly wiped them away. “No! No more crying!”

“If you wish to cry, that is your right.” I whispered.

“Crying is for babies!”

“You _are_ a baby--”

“--No! I am Lady Greystone and I demand the thief’s head on a spike!”

Father sighed and his grip on his cane tightened. Such strong words from a little girl are not acceptable in Ishgard. I held my girl close. Dear gods, will he shout at her? He wouldn’t, right? I’m here. _I won’t let him._

“You heard the lady.” Father addressed the servants. “Whoever the thieves are, they will suffer the full consequences of the law. Confess now and I _may_ hear your words.”

The room filled with murmurs and side glances. Finally the cook broke the silence.

“Perhaps we ought to question the one with **_most_ ** access to the lady’s chamber?”

All eyes immediately landed on Sol’s Miqo’te nursemaid. Confused, the poor girl looked around her and was lost for words.

“What folly!” Bataar cried. “This woman remained in the drawing room with Lady Sol’s harpsichord master the entire afternoon.”

Father looked at the hired tutor and he confirmed the statement.

“Tis true, Lord Edmondt,” said the tutor. “This man had also spent the afternoon in my class as he insisted the young lady be taught to play a Morin Khuur instead. He claimed it superior - the nerve! He is no thief but an uncouth cur.”

“I am no liar either.” Bataar added. “The Morin Khuur _is_ superior.”

“That’s quite enough.” Father said and turned to us. “Is this the right of it, my little sunflower?”

Sol looked at him with her sad blue eyes. Her cheeks were flushed red and I did my best to fight the urge to squeeze her in a tight hug. Now is not the time to fawn over how adorable she is! Pay attention, Haurchefant.

“Yes, the necklace was heavy so I put it back in my room by myself.” Sol sniffed.

“Alone?”

Sol nodded. “It’s a simple task, grandpa. I required no escort.”

“Of course,” Father smiled and gently patted her head. He then turned to Sol’s maid. “Do you have something to say for yourself?”

“M-my lord, I did not take my lady’s necklace. I swear it to the Twelve.”

“I will hold you accountable for your words.” Then, father turned to the rest of the staff. “That goes for all of you. You may not have done it in person, but rest assured we will find out. May Halone judge us true.”

With a tap of father’s cane, Firmien marched his small army of trusted manservants through the door leading to the servants quarters. The staff was held in the solar as they searched through the servants’ belongings.

“This is absurd...” whispered one of the servants.

“Hold your tongue-” snapped Artoirel but he was quickly stopped by father’s raised hand.

“Let them voice their grievances, Artoirel. We _are_ , in a little way, condemning them without proof and invading their privacy.”

“Very well, forgive me, father. May I be excused?”

Before father could answer, Emmanellain burst through the doors as he was wont to do and cheerily announced his presence.

“I am returned from the market and I bring good--Oh...what happened here?”

With the entire Fortemps staff in the solar present, Emmanellain froze on the spot for a moment before trying to lift the mood.

“W-what’s going on? Is the nameday banquet today or we’re just preparing for it? I daresay having early preparations is admirable seeing as **_everyone_ ** is ahead of schedule these days! Why, even the Warrior of Light is early. I saw her at the Jeweled Crozier just now. I would’ve said hello but I thought--”

“--What did you say?” said Artoirel suddenly. “She’s here? In Ishgard?”

“The Jeweled Crozier _is_ in Ishgard so...”

_She’s here._

Had my ears been blessed with a rabbit’s mobility, it would’ve perked up at the news. My stomach began to flutter and my heart squeezed so hard it might as well climb up my throat. I looked at Sol expecting some sort of excitement and relief from her but I was greeted with tears. 

“Oh no...” she whispered. “Mama made it. Mama made it _and I lost it_ . _I lost it. I lost--_ ”

I hugged her tight and whispered to her reassuringly “Don’t worry. We’ll find it, alright? And even if we don’t, Mama will still love you. Papa guarantees it.”

“Really? You’re not angry?”

“Yes. I’m not angry. We’ll welcome her together with smiles, yes? How about we clean up your chamber, hmm? Mama shouldn’t see it messy.”

“Alright..”

I looked at Emmanellain and he approached us. He greeted Sol with a cheerful smile but she was too tired to fully express any form of appreciation for his gift. It was a charming thing: a palm sized wooden unicorn he found at the market. She ran a finger against the wood grain and quietly uttered her thanks.

“Thank you, uncle Emmy.”

“Happy nameday, my lady.” Emmanellain replied solemnly. He raised his eyes towards me as if to repeat his question: _what in gods’ names happened here?_

I shook my head and mouthed ‘later’. I then turned to father and he simply nods, granting our leave. Emmanellain wheeled us out of the solar and I started to hush the turmoil in my mind.

“Emmanellain, can you do me favor?” I asked as soon as we arrived in Sol’s room.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“--No! What? Be serious.”

“Serious? Like Artoirel? Have you seen him glower back there? Frightening, absolutely frightening. Is that why our little lady’s crying? Artoirel shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near children!”

“No, that’s not why he’s _glowering_. Our brother is just deeply troubled with the happenings.”

“What happenings?”

“I’ll tell you later. The important thing is--I need you to do something. Please. Will you do it?”

“I’m all ears.”

“You said you saw my beloved at the market, correct? Distract her. Make sure she doesn’t come anywhere near here until...until supper time. Alright?”

Emmanellain pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows at me. With a hum his smile widened to a cheeky grin.

“Planning something _special_ are you? Try not to make a number two so soon - the little lady’s adorable but after she was born---Halone have mercy! She cried every other hour in the night. I was full glad to be sleeping in Camp Dragonhead.”

And with that, he was soon out the door.

Oh, Emmanellain. How could you possibly expect me to embrace my woman the moment we meet when everything has been nothing short of simple!

“Are you ready to help me clean up, Sol?”

My little girl nods quietly and hops out of my lap. She paced towards her bed and just laid there on the floor.

“Are we going to clean up like that?”

She nodded.

“How?”

“I...don’t know.”

I wheeled myself towards her and stopped beside her bed. I gathered all my strength and stood only to collapse on the mattress and beckoned to her.

“How about I read to you, instead?”

“We’re not cleaning anymore?”

“Yes we are. We’re cleaning the bad feelings away.”

“We can do that?”

I smiled at her fondly. “We can.”

That cheered her up slightly and she got up to get a book from the shelves. Meanwhile I reclined on the headboard and stared at the painted ceiling. Unicorns pranced happily among pink clouds on the marble - carefree and void of trouble.

My love has finally arrived in Ishgard and a day early no less! I should be jumping for joy but...I guess I cannot right now. So many things happening in one day and it’s only three bells in the afternoon.

 

Halone help us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update. I have lots of things happening right now.  
> I signed up for my first artist alley with my own table (gasp!!) and I need time to make all this merch!!
> 
> alsoo~~~  
> If you're on the JP (elemental) server, I'm Lord Greystone in Atomos. I'm giving away hot chocolate until the 14th :3c  
> Maybe I'll be on Cross-World Partyfinder for Heavensward dungeons and trials. Maybe, just maybe.  
> Sometimes I do Cross-World Valentione duty :3c


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